


Rooftops

by CreoleSiren



Series: POC IN DCU [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Bisexual males, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Character of Color, Gay Sex, Gen, Lots of Sex, M/M, Multi, New York City, Original Female Character of Color, PoC, Polyamory, Rooftops, Smut ahead, Straight Sex, Things move fast, Threesome, but also sex, but romance first, fast burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreoleSiren/pseuds/CreoleSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always thought there was something beautiful about rooftops. Looking down, like a some sort of flawed guardian angel helping and trying to save legions of other flawed beings. But sometimes, he didn't want to just be a guardian - he wanted to be him and he wanted to enjoy rooftops. (Not just kick ass from on top of said rooftops).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Robin

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy! I would really like to know if you guys liked this, so please leave a kudos and a comment cause a comment would be awesome. A comment would make my heart soar and encourage me to update faster cause I only lose interest when people stop telling me if they still want to read my work – so yeah, thank you. Show some love.

  1. **Red Robin.**



Logan Williams sat on the rooftop of her godmother’s apartment building, wrapped snugly in her khaki jacket because although it was supposed to be spring – it was still _very_ cold in the evening.  It was better to be up here at night, no bright glares of day but those city lights of Gotham. Was it strange, she sometimes wondered, to love those glows in the darkness? Sometimes, she compared it to her first home, the one she’d been forced to abandon all that while ago, her sweet little tropical home in South America before her father got a job in New York and made the entire family pack up and move. He was hardly ever home, however, so most nights she’d go stay with her godmother – like she was now, because she’d never really feel at home with his wife and son. They weren’t her family, her father was but she couldn’t see Carol (his wife) as anything akin to family. Her little brother, Micah, she couldn’t hate him – he was four and so very sweet. At least with her godmother and her son she felt home with them, they were easier to be around. Her father didn’t talk about her mother, not after the divorce, but while she was with her godmother who spoke profusely about her mother and sometimes she even got to see her. If she was lucky that is, as her mother was usually busy and buried herself in her work. Sighing, she took a gum from her knee-length jean pocket and looked down at the view – the cars that bustled by and people looked like ants, she could almost smell the stench of the crowds. City life was intoxicating – poisonous and glorious.

Popping the gum, she closed her eyes and inhaled it all.

“And here I thought only my family had a thing for rooftops.”

To say she almost choked on her gum was the truth, and that she fell on her ass when she jerked backwards onto the dirty, hard, cement roof – is what she’d always deny and labelled as propaganda. The cackle from a young man with a bright, clown suite made her stand up and growl at him to the best of her abilities. He had dark hair, so black that even the night could not compare he smirked down at her – as he was taller than her, his broad shoulders and impressive but lean structure overwhelming for her smaller yet buxom figure.

“Asshole!” she spat at him once he finished his laughter.

He cocked his head to the side, saying nothing. Logan flickered her eyes over his costume, to her, as she hadn’t worn her prescription glasses, appeared to be bright colors – red, mostly red as the details were unclear. “What’s with the clown costume, are you larping* or something?”

She supposed, as his mask moved as if to show his raised eyebrows, his lips quivered before going to a flat line, that he was not amused. “Larping?”

Logan rolled her eyes. “Live Action Role Playing.”

He scoffed. “I’m not.”

Folding her arms she looked at the still closed door with the brick she’d placed blocking it still very much there that made her eyebrow quirk – squinting her brown eyes to look at it – it didn’t appear to be moved. How he get up there? She almost asked him but then she remembered this was Gotham and people in Gotham seemed to have a thing for tights and danger. Instead she stuffed her cold fingers into her jacket pockets and looked into the white holes where his eyes were and asked, as politely as possible; “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He stood straight, face neutral but she had a feeling he was laughing at her. “Patrolling,”

“What are you, some sort of spandex totting cop?”

That time his lip did quirk upwards.

“Not exactly,”

She walked closer to him, although her common sense screamed to say, _don’t_ and _danger_. Logan kept walking until she was close to him, looking at his costume with better eye, it looked familiar like something she’d seen on television or in newspapers.

Knitting her brows, she licked her lips swiftly. “Vigilante?”

He winked – that little shit.

“Logan.” She said, in a low voice – her voice did weird things when she was close to hot guys and even with a mask he seemed, very hot.

“What are you doing on a rooftop at 2 AM, Logan?”

She hummed, having like the way he said her name. “Clearing my head,” She turned on her heel and pressed her elbows to the ledge of the roof. Logan wondered if it’d be wise to reclaim her seat whilst speaking with the crimson vigilante – probably wasn’t, so she didn’t try.

“Hmm,” In a swish, as if his body moved so quickly and swiftly that he cut through the air, he was perched on the ledge, back to the city and face twisted to his side to look at her.

She rubbed her eyes, wishing she wasn’t dumb enough to have left her extra eyes downstairs, because now they were burning – it wasn’t that she was blind without them she just couldn’t see past five feet without them. So, like, partially blind.

“Gotham isn’t the safest place to be on rooftops at night you know.”

She rolled her eyes, tempted to pop her gum obnoxiously at him but her mama raised her better than that so instead she flicked his tacky costume. “This coming from a guy in tights traipsing about rooftops at 2 AM.”

He shrugged, a beeping noise came from his body and she could have sworn he sighed. “Booty call?” she questioned, jokingly.

He laughed, “I wish.” Standing up in the ledge, his black combat boots sturdy, holding his weight as they should holding him steady. “It’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go now.”

She pressed a hand to his front heel. “I don’t know your name!”

 He smirked before kicking and propelling his body off of the building. “I’m Red Robin.” Echoed as he fell into the blackness, leaving her standing there – excited and cold, then it hit her, like a slap in the face with a concrete slap; did she just meet a superhero?

It kind of felt like it – a lot.

 

(|)

Thursdays were good days for Logan. Thursdays were pizza day at the school cafeteria, and free unlimited frozen yogurt if you ate a whole bowl in under a minute at the FroYo down the street from her house and it was Micah’s karate practice which means Carol won’t be home which gives her hours without awkward conversation and Carol’s attempt at _mothering_ her. So, she happily ate her fourth bowl of coffee flavored frozen yogurt with an absurd amount of unhealthy toppings as she walked home to the townhouse her father was still paying an arm and a leg for – ah, _home_. She’d had her headphones in, swaying in her cotton skirt and denim shirt as she entered the supposedly empty home. Well, naturally, she couldn’t have anything really to herself because when she walked in she saw Micah sitting in front of the television and Carol going through the bills on the lazy boy in her home clothes. Turning her music down, she greeted them and tried to think of the most polite way to ask why they were still there.

“Practice was cancelled.” Carol supplied, glancing up at her with a soft blue eyed gaze.

Logan nodded. The yogurt lost some sweetness immediately. “Of course,”

“I, uh was about to make dinner – do you think, maybe you could help m-” Carol started; her blonde tresses framed her face as her blue eyes looked at Logan nervously.

“I’ve got homework.” Logan intercepted quickly, racing up the stairs, leaving her yogurt beside the key dish.

Sighing, Carol tucked her hair behind her ear and continued to sift through bills. “Of course, you do.” The woman muttered as the girl disappeared up the stairs, wondering when she’d open her heart to her and how long she would wait for it.

Logan threw her book bag in a corner and pulled out her laptop. Usually, she would have gone downstairs and Skype her cousins back home but apparently, Thursdays don’t mean shit anymore. Checking her watch, she sighed, it was still early, and they would most likely still be at class. Turning the computer on, she decided on just scrolling through her social media – pretty girls with slim bodies and hot guys dating said pretty girls. Okay, so maybe not social media.

Instead she opened a search engine and typed in the name that had been haunting her for a while, ever since she got home from her godmother’s – Red Robin.

And of course, she didn’t find any real information, a few fan blogs and a couple of blurry images. Lots tights and fan art of course, some fan fiction (and wow, there’s a lot of smut – like a lot of kinky stuff that made her eyebrows raised at some) but mostly, she found out that he was indeed a good guy.

Which was wow to be honest – seriously, was a shocker. She knew that Gotham had its fair share of vigilantes, superhero types but to meet one is kind of awesome and amazing at the same time. Logan contemplated whether to stay home or go to her godmother’s apartment and chance another meeting with her superhero. The superhero, not her own, just _the_ \- she had to remember that.

Stay home and stay locked up in her room or go to her godmother’s, see her mother and maybe Red Robin again? It was certain.

Picking her overnight duffel bag up and her book bag and chargers – Logan climbed down the fire escape and made her way to Barnes Avenue.

(|)

“Have you asked your father?” questioned a short pudgy woman asked as she stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed beneath her small breasts. Her eyebrows were knitted and fingers tapping on her forearm.

Logan blew a raspberry and rocked on the heel of her boots. “He won’t have a problem.”

“That’s not what I asked. Did you ask yuh Dah-dee?” Logan stiffened at her switch, the twang was bad, the twang meant she was irate.

“He wasn’t home.” Logan sniffled for effect. “Probably won’t be until later and he won’t check in the morning.”

Her godmother’s eyes softened just a little and she shook her head. Muttering under her breathe before replying to Logan properly. “Get in, you little rat.”

Logan grinned. “Thanks Aunty June.”

The older woman sucked on her teeth as she bolted the door behind her, watching as her godchild pranced around the reasonably sized apartment. The girl probably hadn’t showered before she came, as she smelt of a school day and yogurt. “Is Jamar home?” she questioned, setting her school bag in the living room chair and tossing her duffel bag into the spare room.

Aunty June waved her hand, to signify she didn’t want to talk about wherever her son was, and Logan took the hint. “I’ll wash up for dinner then.” She said popping into the bathroom with her duffel bag leaving her godmother alone.

The older woman sighed in the murmurs of life in the home, since her son was always so busy between university and his job at the factory she barely saw him and Logan’s visits helped to remind the hollow walls of home. The sad part was, her son didn’t have to work but he refused to use the money from his father’s apartment complex he preferred to work his fingers raw in the factory. It ached her soul but she was soothed by a young girl who needed an escape and home as much as she did at nights.

Rubbing her hands, she contemplated calling her friend and informing her that her daughter was home but Amanda was probably still working – if she was in town, which she doubted the woman was, but it couldn’t hurt to call would it? June dialled the number she had memorised years ago but was only greeted by a voicemail. Shaking her head, she hung up the phone and cursed.

Some people didn’t deserve the children they were blessed with and her best friend was one of them.

“Let me start this stew.” She abandoned the phone and turned her attention to the kitchen as she had before Logan’s arrival.

(|)

Logan cupped her third bowl of chicken stew to her chest as she broke a piece of the flatbread to eat it with, she hoped Aunty June wouldn’t mind her taking some of the leftover but her 2 AM munchies were attacking her. Pushing her purple framed glasses up her nose, she wiggled in her lawn chair and blanket – making her comfortable as she ate and waited.

It was a chance of course that he’d return. 

But dammit, she wanted to show off her awesome web skills at his smirk and chiselled jaw.

Chewing the morsel she’d dipped, Logan picked up her bottle of juice and looked at the grand building across from the nine floored complex, thinking how man was always trying to reach for god but only seemed to make themselves fools in the process. Children jumping up to reach a giant of a man, never reaching, that was the way things worked.

We always reach for the unreachable.

For some reason, Logan couldn’t help thinking that was what she was doing waiting for a chance meeting to happen again. Forty five minutes later, her bowl was half-empty and the empty bottle at rolled to the other end on the rooftop. She puffed her cheeks out and resisted calling herself a fool out loud because she was already berating herself mentally.

Clumsily she picked up her paraphernalia, throwing her blanket over her body like a desert nomad and tucking the lawn chair by the ledge and held her bowl – sleep was itching her now, beneath her skin and in her blood. 

“You waited for me.”

She swore that smug bastard liked getting her jumpy because she almost fell on her ass and toss precious, delicious lamb stew away.

“Do you have to?! Seriously,” she angrily watched up at him – how she not sees him jump right in front of her? Damn ninja! He smirked at her and folded his arms.

“What’s in the bowl?” he asked, not bothering to hide his obvious humor.

Smacking her lips together, she cleared her throat and pressed it to his slim armored chest. “Lamb stew and flatbread,”

“Looks messy,”

“Don’t be a stuck-up birdie,” she pointed out nudging the bowl to his chest once more. “Try it.”

It looked like he raised an eyebrow, but she wouldn’t know with the mask and all.

“I wouldn’t poison you, Red Robin.”

He hummed, taking off a black glove – that looked more techy and fancy than any glove she’d ever seen and broke a piece of the flatbread and took some of the lamb meat and stew. Red Robin didn’t eat it right away – of course, sniffing it and ignoring her look of disbelief, before taking a small bite, then a bigger bite, then the entire morsel.

“So…” she cajoled.

He shrugged, ignoring her. “It was good.”

Her jaw dropped and eyes narrowed. “Lamb stew and flatbread isn’t just good! It’s damn well otherworldly!” she protested.

He took another serving, this time in one bite, swallowing slowly. “S’kay.”

“You know for a superhero, you’re kind of an ass.”

To that he laughed and swapped more of her lamb stew.  “Such _nice_ words,”

Yawning she shook her head, and pulled her now empty bowl to her chest. “I’m going to sleep, cause you kind of suck. I’m so gonna comment that on those fan blogs; Red Robin is lamb stew snob and he sucks. S’gonna be in caps lock too.”

“My reputation will never be the same.” He spoke, tone dry as he stepped aside, allowing her to trudge towards the door.

“Be here earlier next time.” She shouted as she went through the door, not looking behind to see the fond smile.

Red Robin looked on and shook his head.

“I will be Logan.” He said before falling into the night and Gotham’s scum.

{1}

 


	2. Growth + Tim Drake (Damian Wayne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave lots of love, in the form of kudos and comments. Thank you so much for the persons who commented and kudoed on the last chapter, this is for you. The ages are messed up. Go back if you're a purist, if not god bless.  
> -Damian - 16  
> -Tim - 21  
> \- Logan - 17
> 
> Unedited work ahead, danger - danger.

  1. ******Growth + Tim Drake (Damian Wayne).**



 

**| fifteen days |**

She was reading with a clip on light attached to the page as she sat, perched on the ledge – just like the first night, minus the gum. It was a tattered copy of one of her mother’s novels she’d found during the weekend whilst she was there. Logan, herself, never really saw the appeal of the novel but her mother had liked it so she thought she’d give it a second try; because she was not the same person she was at ten at seventeen – she read now with fresh eyes and perspective. 

“ _ Pride and the Prejudice _ , really?”  

She rolled her eyes; she’d stopped jumping a few days ago to his silent entrances. “You know if I fell ‘cause of your ninja moves you’d totally go to jail.” 

“What’s with the book?” he persisted on the topic, ignoring her joking warning.

She shrugged. “My mom likes it.” 

He nodded, accepting that as enough of an explanation, taking a seat beside her on the ledge. Logan turned the forth page of the book, trying her hardest to be interested and actually like it. It was however quite a chore for her. She caught her tongue between her teeth, trying not to bite it too hard. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes, causing her glasses to be pushed up uncomfortable against her skin. This was a lost cause, she decided, tossing her book behind her onto the rooftop floor. 

Red Robin chuckled besides her, making her roll her eyes. “You should try comic books, much easier to read than boring old books.” He commented, gloved hand waving. 

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching him up and down – this coming from a guy looking like he stepped straight out of a high resolution glossy page. She smirked, leaning towards him and poking his armored chest. “You would know.”

“Ha. Ha.” He said dryly. 

“Have a sense of humor, birdbrain.” 

“Birdbrain?” 

“I’m trying out nicknames.”

He leaned towards her, flicking a loose bantu knot from her forehead. “Keep trying.” 

They bantered back and forth for a while, legs dangling off the side of the building as they spoke. Eyes glancing between themselves and the crowd beneath them, the pair were an odd one – costumed crusader and teenaged girl, shimmering almost under the neon and moonlight of Gotham. They looked like happy, young kids. Like the way youth were meant to be and not what they were. 

“…I’ve got so much free time some days, I feel like clawing off skin in boredom sometimes, honestly.” Logan lamented, unscrewing the now warm bottle of water she had brought up with her while she waited earlier.

“Maybe do what most teenagers, join a club or something.” He suggested, tossing a handful of pretzels into his mouth. He’d munched most of her snacks – both homemade and packet yet there were no crumbs on his costume whilst her purple tank top was covered in them. 

Pouting she dusted off her chest and stomach. “Those clubs of worth are filled with pretentious little snubs – I mean, even though half of them probably got their money through blood and cunning, they still think they’re better than you and I honestly don’t need that in my life.” 

He hummed. “But why let the opinion of someone else bother you?”

She smiled, sadly, head cocked to the side. “It’s not really that, but I guess it kind of is? I don’t know, man. I just…they get under my  _ skin _ . Majorly – you know?”

Red Robin looked as if he was going to refute her – say something else to diffuse or disagree with her but then an image of a young man with dark hair and green eyes flashed before his mental eye. “I get it.”

She had a feeling he honestly did.

 

**| twenty days |**

 

“Ranch flavored or original?” she asked, legs crossed beneath her blanket and lawn chair depressed under the added weight of his feet on the handle as he sat in the lawn chair a foot from her own. 

He hummed, hands laced, his head cocked to the side thoughtfully. “Original. Nothing beats the original.” 

“You deny the awesomeness of ranch flavored Doritos?” she questioned, offended.

Red Robin shrugged. “Can’t beat the basics,”

She huffed. “You’re such a conservative.”

He grimaced. “Ouch,”

Logan wiggled her eyebrows at him; she’d freshly done them and was proud of it as any seventeen year old girl would be, she’d developed a comfortable relationship with him and she wondered if that was healthy to have a comfortable relationship with a man – older than her and whose real name she did not know but she felt so unbelievably close to him. Was that normal?

“Favorite slasher movie?” he said.

She smiled. “Scream.” The echoing groan from his chest was enough to make her agree with herself that  _ normal _ was highly exaggerated. 

 

**| thirty days |**

 

There were times when Logan really, really hated having a friend she could only meet at an ungodly hour in the evening (or morning), like a week ago when she had a pop quiz in chemistry but fell asleep half-way because someone in tights did not appreciate 90s reggae and she had to educate the fool of course. Another time when it was the night before her class had a field trip to Gotham Labs and she almost fell on her ass in front of a cute lab assistant because her ankle was sore as a result of a certain asshole trying out his new grappling hook with her and her ankle getting nicked by the corner piece of the Wayne Tower. She’d cursed profusely at him, the tower and the entire Wayne family – which for some reason Red Robin had found  _ extremely _ funny. However, tonight was not one of those nights because tonight, the bastard brought a motorcycle that looked like it stepped out of a wet dream.

“I wanna touch it.” She whispered; hand reaching out only for it to smacked away.

“Keep your unwashed hands to yourself, Williams.” Logan pouted, not even bothering to question how he’d known her last name – like, seriously, this was Batman’s partner for years, of course he’d found out her last name. 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the helm of it. “I can treat you better than him.”

Red Robin scoffed beside her. “Don’t make me rethink giving you a ride….” 

“My apologies, oh great spandex wearing one,”

If there were ever a moment Logan thought he rolled his eyes, she would have guessed that moment was now. But he ignored her, planting himself on the magnificent machine. He beckoned for her to come and she didn’t need to be told twice, planting her round behind right behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. This was an awesome one month anniversary of friendship, if she most say so herself. 

“Ready?”

She smirked. “Onwards, Robin Hood!”

He grimaced before the vehicle roared to life. “As I said before, _keep_ _trying_.”

 

**| forty days |**

 

Their next meeting was not as usually scheduled; it was actually pretty early in the evening by comparison, 10:00 PM, and not on the rooftop of her godmother’s building. Instead, it was when she was walking from a block party that her friend, Elyria had dragged her to which she really had no interest in. She’d left without her, as the older teen had gotten a call that had her running from the building so fast as if she was on fire. Logan just wanted to get home – or to her second home? Yeah, legally second home with her god mother. Take a nap and prepare for her meeting with Red Robin.

She’d come to look forward to those meetings, preparing food the day before or picking out her favorite snacks and charging her iPod to play music or show him a picture from her day. He was like that cool college friend you had, but she couldn’t tell anyone about him or for that fact did she even know  _ if _ he went to college.

Shivering, Logan regretted wearing a skirt and midriff that Elyria had picked out, the stockings did nothing to keep her legs warm and the leather jacket felt useless. Then again she always felt a bit colder than most people. 

But the cold glock that stuck to her side was definitely not her own. “Empty your little purse or spread those legs sweetheart.”

Her finger tips felt icy and her tongue heavy – she couldn’t even scream. Twitchy fingers nervously grasped her brown purse, eager to wrench out the money, just so she could get away. But then, in a flash of color and a sharp zip through the air the assailant and the glock fell to the ground. 

It took her a full minute to turn to her right side and see that the man who had accosted her lay on the ground, tied up and wriggling with a smug and pissed off, Red Robin standing above him, boot digging onto his back. 

She stared at the man on the ground, his dirty and tanned skin, dilated pupils and grimy clothing. He looked like a worm on the ground, a dangerous – deadly worm that almost killed her for twenty dollars and a stick of gum.  

“Are you okay?” He asked her, voice different. Modulated, maybe? She didn’t know – she couldn’t think right now. Her mind refused to work but apparently her legs hadn’t cause she ran to him and hugged him tightly. The tears didn’t ruin her eyeliner at least, thank god for waterproof Mac, otherwise she would have looked as chaotic as she felt.

She cried on him for a while, ignoring the muffled words of the criminal on the ground and paid attention to the fact that he always smelled so good, and not at all like blood and sweat and justice like she thought he would. He smelt like a normal, great smelling male and she inhaled him. Hoping his scent came with a special power to erase her memory. 

Just for a few seconds even.

“I’m going to take you home now.” He whispered to her, sirens in the background as he roared off in his motorcycle – the ride, the breezing by of buildings and his scent were a welcomed distraction; so much so that she hadn’t realized he’d actually dropped her to her  _ real _ (legal) home or into her own bed. 

But she had noticed when he tried to leave and grabbed onto his gloved hand. “Stay please,” she had pleaded – Logan hadn’t noticed the longing in his eyes (nor could see have seen if she wanted to, that damned mask covered a lot) but she had noticed and his head shake in a definitive no, that made her heart ache. 

Red Robin leaned forward, flicking a curled lock of hair from her forehead before leaving, nothing but a whisper in his wake. “I wish I could,”

 

**| forty one days |**

 

Logan was not naïve. She knew what the world was like; she knew it extended to all beings and creatures. The universe was a grand open space filled with ugly. But like all teenagers, she didn’t believe that the  _ ugly _ would ever happen to her. Last night however, had proved her wrong and she had been looking over her shoulder whole day, in class, at home and even on the bus ride to the apartment complex. Yes, although she knew that Red Robin knew where to find her – she still held the apartment complex as some sort of sacred-this-is-where-I-meet-my-only-super-cool-friend kind of place. Back home with Carol and her Dad was not that place – it just wasn’t.

So, for the fortieth time in the past forty one days she snuck out to Barnes Avenue, intent on getting to that rooftop to the only person that really made her feel completely safe right now. 

Her nails had been bitten to flesh and her eyes had a permanent wide – scared, doe look. Logan didn’t care however; she looked a mess and unstable but maybe that was good because no one had so much as whistled in her direction the entire walk which she was relieved by. That night, she hadn’t gone to her godmother at first, instead she went straight to the roof and set up her place with a pair of lawn chairs, some blankets and the two microwavable bowls of samosas she had snatched from the pile Carol had made. 

(She may not be the woman’s biggest fan but my god – could she cook, and who wouldn’t like chicken and cabbage samosa? _No_ _one_ , that’s who.)

It was yet again way more early than usual but for the hours before, she took time to herself. Opening a worn sketchbook and turning on the small portable lamp, she scratched at the page for hours until she heard the creak of the lawn chair.

“About time you got here, Red.” She muttered, handing a bowl to him.

He took it, but he was more tense than usual – he’d rolled his shoulders before speaking. “I’m surprised you’re here.” Ah, yes, his honesty was one of the things she admired about him besides how well he filled out his tights.

“It’s soothing.” Honesty was something she always gave him in turn as well but in this case, she would leave out the part about  _ him _ being soothing.

Red Robin took a samosa out and dipped it in chutney before taking a bite, chewing and swallowing before answering her. “It’s okay to be freaked out, you know.”

She was just a little tired of being freaked out. “I hate it.”

He smirked, double dipping the bitten samosa. “Never said it  _ felt _ okay, Logan.”

This time she smirked, shutting the sketchbook and taking an oily treat. “No. No you did not.”

The friendship however did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

+

 

**| sixty days |**

Tim Drake stood in the middle of his room, looking at the mirror in dim light and eyeing the scars he’d garnered from the night’s patrol. Alfred had already clean and swabbed them, and luckily nothing needed to be stitched. He’d stayed longer than he should have in Gotham, the numerous messages and phone calls from his teammates back in San Francisco were a testament to that but he’d been so settled into the groove in Gotham – patrolling familiar streets and hopping over rooftops made him overstay. Then there was Logan. 

Unexpected and crashing into him like a tidal wave of surprise, but damn was he enjoying riding that wave.

Wait – that was not as dirty as it sounded, just  _ no _ . His friendship with her was something unlike the ones he shared with Bart, Cassandra or any of his teammates or family. There was something pure there and something he’d like to capture and look away for him alone.

It was a normality he’d long since abandoned yet long since craved. Ironic, somehow – that it was achieved while he was wearing a costume and couldn’t even tell her his real name. How he’d wish that she’d just call him Tim sometimes instead of Red or Red Robin.

Those were not his names, those were his masks – masks that he proudly wore but at times he’d gladly discard. Because, when was the last time he sat down with someone even remotely his age who wasn’t super powered or could kill him in a blink of an eye and relax? Heck, granted she was a little younger than him, she was great company and an even greater balance for him.

“You’re getting slow, Drake.” Mocked a voice from his door, which he had not even heard open. (Or the locked being picked for that matter.) “Your patrols are getting  _rather_ lengthy.”

Tim sighed; he was not in the mood for Damian. He had to think and he had to deal with his teammates – he was really not in the mood for the bat brat. “Go away, Damian.”

“It’s almost as if you’re actually getting weaker or you’re distracted.” Prodded the sixteen years old and damn, Tim wanted to swing around and forget that he was five years his senior and stab him. God knows Damian could take it.

Damian, perhaps sensing the growing violent intent radiating off of the older male, chuckled. “Seems like someone’s  _ distracted _ ,”

The knife flew from his hand before he could think, and of course Damian caught it. In a series of quick movements and flashes the duo were wrestling on the ground until Damian had the upper hand, his forearm pressing down on Tim’s collarbones and knees into Tim’s thighs. 

The biological Wayne smirked. “Tf.” He breathed out, leaned down so his lips were close to Tim’s ear – breathe hot on his skin. “Didn’t anyone tell you – sharing is caring, Timothy.” He gritted his teeth, Damian managed to get under his skin and infuriate him like no other, he acted as if he knew everything and half of the time, Tim was partial to agree with him (mentally).

But not always.

The positions quickly switched, with Damian being on his back. “Not always, Damian.” He all but grunted out before jumping back off of the younger male. “Now get out of my room.”

 


	3. Starting Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very encouraged by the comments made on the last chapter and the kudos and shoutout to the person who bookmarked this story - loveeee, b. Plenty love.  
> If you're uncomfortable with m/m sex scenes don't read this chapter. Scenes be here, they be here.

**I. Starting Something (else)**

 

**(|I|)**

It had been almost two months of her late night/early morning meetings with Red Robin when her father intermitted her joyful dawdling.

“You haven’t been sleeping in your own bed for weeks, Logan. Have you forgotten that this is your home? Not that shitty apartment in Barnes Avenue.” She almost corrected him, saying that it wasn’t weeks but in fact two months which shows how much he knows about his own daughter. It was funny how he thought he could just assume a role that only existed due to DNA and the fact that she couldn’t exactly fund herself just yet. Instead, she cleaned her glasses with the edge of her t-shirt and tossed her hair back from her face before locking eyes with her furious father.

“Aunty June needs someone to help her around the building sometimes and Jamar helps me with my physics homework. It’s like a part-time job and a free tutor.” She reasoned, but really it was utter bullshit and they both knew it. Carol looked at her beside her father, giving her a sympathetic look but Logan wasn’t buying it. _She_ probably told him anyway.

“You’ve got a job at the pet store and you aren’t even failing physics, plus its summer,” pointed out her father, Malcolm Williams crossing his dark brawny arms.

Logan smirked, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “Thanks to Jamar,”

The senior Williams rolled his eyes.  “Little girl, I swear to god…”

“If her grades haven’t suffering we should let her continue working with June.” Chirped Carol.

Logan’s eyebrows raised and she blinked at Carol.

Her father did the same – his lips pressed tightly together beneath his moustache.

Carol cleared her throat. “What I mean is, it’s obvious that Logan isn’t too at ease here…with me. I mean, who would be when living with her father’s new wife, huh? We can’t pressure you, Logan. I can’t say you haven’t tried, but then again – can I really say you have tried? I think if this is what you want to do, then we’ll do it. If that makes you more comfortable,” she waved her dainty pale hands. “Then so be it, for the time being but we can work something out, like halfises or something.”

Logan shot a smirk at her father. “Yeah, _Dad_ – halfises,”

If it were possible for smoke to exit through a human’s ears her father would have clouds around his head. She never felt so connected to Carol. “Fine then.” He gritted out. “But no more sneaking out at night to go there, you ask me or Carol to give you a ride. Barnes Avenue is no area for a young woman to be traipsing about in the evening.” He folded his arms and puffed out his chest.

“I agree.” Stated Carol, lips set into a stern line.

Logan was not partial to disagree because she had paid first-hand for walking there at night a couple of weeks ago – not that she’d tell her father that anyway. “Totes.” She hummed, spinning on her heel and picking up her overnight bag. “So who’s gonna –”

“Going to,” Her father corrected in a gruff voice, sounding very frustrated with the entire thing – a fact that only made her smile wider.

“ – take me to Aunty June’s tonight?”

This time, her father smirked. “Carol will, won’t you dear.” There was a hint of mocking in her father’s voice – directed at either Carol or her, or both, frankly she didn’t care.

“Sure, why not.” She uttered softly, blue eyes and long eyelashes fluttering.

That sneaky old dog, she thought before smirking.

Good one _Dad_.

The drive to the apartment complex was long and silent for the most part, the soft croon of the radio filled it up and Logan didn’t mind. Even the voice of Arianna Grande was preferred to an attempt at a conversation with her step-mother. At the corner of her eye, she assessed Carol and honestly she could see the appeal. She was like a star, pale and white at far but up close she was a marvelous golden glow. Yellow hair like ringlets around her angular face – high cheekbones with a movie star face and classic features.  Narrow shoulders and a willowy tall body, she was attractive. She was different, so vastly from her mother, Sonia Fox-Williams, a short and voluptuous with an exotic and round face.  

They were like ying and yang.

For a moment she wondered how her father had fallen in love with the two when they were nothing alike, but then again she hadn’t exactly taken the time to learn about Carol. Did she like Bobby Daring and Jackie Wilson like her mother? Or dance to Diana King in the kitchen when she cooked? Shaking her head, Logan realized she didn’t know that much about Carol – she just disliked her for no reason.

Biting her lower lip, she ran her fingers over her twin French braids. Maybe she needed to let it go.

“Here we are.” Carol spoke, turning off the gas. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to work.”

She smiled, almost saying something but stopped, settling for whatever bland statement she usually pushed out. “Thanks,” Logan uttered, speeding off into the building leaving an exasperated thirty-eight year old behind.

(|I|)

“Have you thought about which schools you’ll be applying to?” questioned Jamar, changing the station beside her.

Logan huffed, opening her bottle of water. “I’m thinking.” She muttered.

“You’re going to be a senior come this September, you should already have a top ten by now.” He reprimanded.

Logan shrugged as she sipped the water. “I don’t know what I want major in as yet.”

He chuckled, the dimples in his dark cheeks displayed as he did so. “Okay .” Jamar drawled, looking at her with a look that said yeah-right-sure-whatever-you-say.

“Fine okay, I’ll tell you but you can’t say shit to Aunty June ‘cause she’ll tell dad and he’ll _freak_.” She said, eyeing him carefully – as if to check for signs of deceit.

“Well the anticipation is killing me, Bug.” He quipped.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “I want to do psychology but I want to minor in illustration because I think art can be a powerful method of studying mental disorders.”

Jamar didn’t say anything instead he sighed and turned to face the television.  Sighing, she did the same – pulling her knees to her chest. Of course, he’d do that. She was supposed to go into marketing like her father and work in big fancy company like him. God forbid she wants to do something else.

“I think that’s fantastic.” He mumbled with a proud but small smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Bug. You’d be a great shrink.”

To that she laughed.

(|I|)

The fire escape which she used to climb up to the roof most nights was in the living room and luckily after 10:00PM everyone was mostly asleep. Well on most occasions anyway because apparently tonight was the night that traditions were broken. She’d cracked her room door open to see a lone light on in the living room. Now, it couldn’t be Aunty June because she had the night shift at the hospital tonight, so it had to be Jamar. She’d almost ran outside but it was the flash of pale skin and the sound of skin slapping together is what stopped her. Opening the door a little wider, she saw her god brother and an Asian man contorting their bodies as they made love. Her god brother held him down by the waist, bent over the sofa and plunged into him. They made muffled noises, grunts and groans and Logan didn’t want to look in on this private moment but she didn’t want to look away.

They were beautiful together.

Slowly, she reeled backward – pulling the door close as silent as she could. Was it wrong that in that moment she was more than a little turned on? Shaking her head, she ignored the burning in her ears and cheeks.

That was _really_ something, she thought closing her eyes as the image flashed through her mind. The contorted bodies, the sounds of pleasure and how it all made her think. It made her curious - about this strange thing that was sex.

It took an hour but when she heard the loud click of his door, she slithered out of the apartment, having decided to take the elevator to the last floor and walk the one level to the rooftop instead.

She had checked her reflection in the dingy glass of the elevator, her hair was brushed back, tied tightly from her flushed face. Beneath the café au lait complexion was slight pink, around her cheeks, nose and ears. Logan squeezed her eyes shut for a second, the image of Jamar’s body over his lover’s – it wasn’t the people so much that made her pink and flushed but rather the action. Sure, she’d read her fair share of sex in books and bad erotica but seeing it in live action was something else. Her body felt warm still, the beige jacket she wore only made her hotter. She’d unbuttoned it and let her sleepwear (a tank top and a fluffy shorts) show. Not that Red Robin would mind, he seemed unaffected by such things.

For once, she realized as she stepped onto the rooftop. He was there before her – standing on the ledge. Looking down at Gotham, his fairly long hair looked like a Pantene commercial, black and glossy. Probably light enough to run fingers through unlike hers which was laden with product most of the time and needed to be washed and dried carefully. She wondered what he was thinking, or who he was thinking about.

Dragging the cement block to keep the door lock, she smiled as he jumped off of the ledge to reach her. His legs were long so in quick strides he was at their spot – which was already arranged with the faun blankets she kept up there for them to use. Of course, she thought, he’d find it even though she had assumed she hid it expertly.

“What’s up, Red?” she breathed voice much more husky than she thought it would sound, as she sat on the blankets, he joined her soon after, shrugging an answer.

She shrugged back mockingly, jamming his shoulders with her own.

He chuckled, knowing full well if he jammed back it might have been a bit too rough for her shoulders. “I’ve got something to tell you.” Red Robin said and all her humor drained from her face.

Logan blinked owlishly at him. “What’s wrong?”

_This can’t be happening._

“You probably already know this but I haven’t been to Gotham in a while, prior to the past three months…” yes, she did know this thanks to fan blogs. “…but, I’m leaving. I’ve abandoned my responsibilities, my team for far too long.”

She tried to stop herself from choking up but she couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t help but slinging an arm over her shoulder immediately as the first sob broke out. Wasn’t this pathetic? Here she was, clinging and crying on a man she’d known for barely over two months. Almost as if she needed him.

Utterly pathetic to say the least, she sniffled onto his chest, and even as she tried to pull away he held her close. It was at the point where she didn’t know who was hold whom and who needed it the most.

But if anyone wondered, she’d always say she did.

“I’ll come back to Gotham, to see you, I’ll contact you –”

“How?” she asked tone watery.

He cleared his throat, fingers running down her jacket covered arms. “I’ll figure something out.”

To that she laughed, ignoring the sob in her throat. “Of course you will,”

“C’mon,” he told her laying her flat on the blanket, so that they would lay beside each other. “We’ll be star gazing tonight.” He announced.

Logan wiped her cheeks and blinked her red eyes, before cleaning the smudges off of her glasses and looking up at the starry, infinite sky with him. If you would have told her that she’d be star-gazing with a spandex wearing weirdo a year ago, she would have told you to _sure_ , cause those kind of things happened.

At least in New York City and especially in Gotham.

“What’s that one?” she asked, pointing at a random star.

Red Robin smiled beside her before rattling off random facts about the star, it was named after something latin but there was a cool Greek story attached to it and Logan could have listened to him talk for hours about stars especially if that meant him never leaving but sadly his damn suit beeped, which meant he was needed somewhere and she would be left alone – of course.

“I guess this is good-bye.”

He smirked sadly, not moving just yet but body rigid with tension. “I guess so,” he paused before correcting. “…until next time.”

Logan smiled at him. He looked as if he was trying to convince himself of that too.

“I really wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“That makes two of us.”

Logan turned on her side, watching him, his lips pursed and dark hair falling to his forehead. Her fingers itched to push the hair aside, to touch his skin – oh, how she wanted to touch his skin. His pale, moon colored skin unblemished and she swore it would be rough but it would be comforting somehow. Like his scent was to her, his touch would be the same.

“Ah, to hell with it.” She mumbled, brushing his hair off quickly, relishing in the touch of his skin. He grasped her wrist as she tried to move it away.

“Your skin is almost as soft as I thought it’d be,” He grunted, turning to face her. Red Robin pulled her close until she was pressed into his body, he felt cold. “I’ve wanted to this for a long time.” He muttered before kissing her lips chastely and gently. Logan closed her eyes and tried to memorize the feel of his lips on her own and the feel of his hair between her fingers.

Red Robin placed a large hand on her collarbone, fingers on her skin – calloused and rough as they kissed. He brushed over her breasts and travelled up to her jaw, cupping her chin. By the time she noticed the absence of warmth and opened her eyes, he was gone.

And suddenly, she felt cold all over once more.

Logan had packed her things in a corner, before venturing back into the apartment, one last glance at the Gotham city skyline and sighed. Perhaps the city was redeemable after all. She had decided to walk to her god mother’s floor since her late night visit had ended early, with her jacket zipped up and head bent low. She had not even seen her own mother dart out of her apartment with a white jacket until she snapped her fingers in front of her face.

Sonia Fox-Williams was a force of a woman although she stood at around 4’9, she was a powerhouse in her field of work. Her mother analysed societies for a living, she did more field research than any anthropologist she’d ever met and wrote the most detailed and understandable papers she’d ever read. Her mother viewed them from a psychologist’s perspective and made a solid living off of it despite living in a shitty apartment in Barnes Avenue.

“Where are you crawling from young woman?” her mother asked, looking over her thick lens at her, hazel eyes critical.

Logan smiled at her mother. “Star gazing, ma and my, were they some pretty stars.” She drawled, leaving her mother on the staircase, stupefied.

“So that’s what they’re calling it now, huh.” Sonia muttered mockingly as she ascended to her level, ignoring the nagging feeling to run behind her daughter as she usually did – maternal instincts easy to suffocate.  

(|I|)

Tim was not surprised by any means when he entered his room at Wayne manor to find the youngest Wayne sitting on _his_ bed back painfully erect, donning the Robin costume and Tim’s laptop on his lap. He sighed, because of course the ‘Son of the Bat’ would not leave well enough alone – naturally. However, tonight was not the night for him to deal with Damian especially after just kissing Logan.

Taking off his mask he tossed it to the corner of the room, running a hand over his face and ignoring the teenager in the room.

 _Maybe if I ignore him long enough he’ll go away_ , he thought whilst peeling off his gloves.

Of course, Tim could never actually get what he wanted. “You smell like vanilla.” Damain pointed from _his_ bed and still on _his_ computer.

Tim rolled his eyes, approaching the bed with his bare hands fisted. “Better vanilla than Gotham.” He pointed out. “Which is what you reek of, why don’t you take a shower. It’ll at least _somewhat_ help with the scent.”

“Tf,” spat Damian looking up from the computer for a split second. “You need to upgrade your computer, orphan.”

Tim scoffed, pulling off his glider and setting it on the ground. The top half of his uniform followed after. “Well, maybe you should use your own, _Damian_.”

Damian smirked, yanking out a flash drive Tim didn’t notice he had stuck into his computer out and pushed the sleek and slim laptop aside. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“Whatever your warp little psychopathic mind is thinking of – cancel, delete or whatever code it takes to delete that thought from your brain _now_.” Tim all but barked, jaw steeled and blue eyes gazing furiously into green.

“Defensive much,” Damian smirked. “Now, I’m really intrigued.”

“Delete the file from your flash drive and go back into your dark little hole or whatever you do for fun, Damian.” Tim spat, a bit more cruel than he intended but of course, Damian was nonplussed by this (at least visibly).

“No.”

In one swift movement, Tim had him laid on his back beside the laptop, with his own legs – still wearing the black red uniform pants, on either side of Damian. He had a feeling Damian liked him riled up, maybe the sex was better or he just enjoyed seeing Tim’s eyes get stormy and a vein pop out in his neck. Either way, Tim had had enough of it.  

“Delete it.” Tim pleaded softly.

Damian shook his head. “As appealing as you are on top of me, you should shower first. I don’t want any lingering scents on these sheets unless they’ll be a lingering _body_.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You’ve already read her file, haven’t you?”

“You’re not a complete waste, are you Tim?”

Flipping Damian on his belly, he pressed him hard against the soft bed – the muscular bodies natural together as they lay, Tim slid Damian’s pants down unzipped the crutch of his skin-tights. The hushed sound that came from the younger Robin was satisfaction enough for him. “Delete,” he punctuated the word with a harsh jerk of his hip, making Damian cry out. “…that damn, file.”

Damian chuckled between groans. “Maybe next time _Logan_ can join us.”

(|I|)

It didn’t take long for her to turn the corner of the floor, but what she saw at the end of the hallway made her pause, it was Jamar and his boyfriend, she guessed, standing in the dimly lit hall speaking harshly and lowly. They were dressed to go out, clothing and shoes on, wearing the most clothes she had seen the duo wear in the past few hours.

She tried to ignore the feeling that rushed through her body and focused on the task at hand, getting passed them. Logan backed away slowly, looking at them from the turn – watching as they tapped at the elevator and whispered in hisses at each other. The man, who’s pale skin and flushed cheeks were handsome as his chiselled magazine features, seemed to be the more irate of the two. The veins in his neck pronounced as he spoke.

In vain, she tried to listen to what they were saying but she couldn’t make out anything.

“…you’re either with me or against me, Jay!” said the man to her god brother as the doors opened and they entered.

His reply echoed. “Then fuck it, Lee! To hell with morals, to hell with everything – ”

Then the metal doors slapped shut and she heard no more of the bickering couple. Slowly, she stepped on the toes of her slippers until she met the door, thankfully, Jamar had left it open either by mistake or purpose. (He wouldn’t have known she wasn’t where she was supposed to be would he? She shook her head; from the heated conversation from before she doubted he had.) Aunty June wasn’t home yet, luckily, so she locked the door and went to her room, sleep came despite the images of pale skin and dark hair that begged to keep her alive.

In the morning, she woke up the smell of burnt toast and the sound of hollering. Logan smiled and hummed into her pillow, yeah, this was what her summer mornings had become and she couldn’t be happier about it. Stretching like a lazy cat that had been laying in the summer sun, she arched her back and raised her arms over her head. Today she had a morning shift at the Pet Paradise near the big Queen shopping centre. Rubbing her eyes, she grabbed her glasses and placed it on her face before checking her watch – holding the black wristband to her face.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, scrambling off the bed in search of her duffel bag to carry to the bathroom.

It was 7:00 AM and her shift started at eight. So much for looking cute today, she grumbled to herself, miserably before rushing to get ready.

In a half an hour she was bathed and dressed, in her Pet Paradise t-shirt and a worn black jeans with a new sneakers she’d bought on sale last week. Hastily, as she looked in the smudged bathroom mirror, she brushed her hair – taking time to brush the two inches of new growth down and rubbing gel to keep the unruly two inches of curls down. Her watched binged and she cursed before tying the hair up in a quick bun. Logan ached, she hadn’t even gotten to put on a spec of make-up, and there was no reason for her to look the way she felt.  

And despite sleeping soundly, she felt horrible. She felt incomplete because Red Robin would not be there tonight and she would have no one to laugh with, feed and just be with tonight. Her rooftop would once again become a lonely landing for her to gaze onto – it wouldn’t be the same. This she knew and maybe she wouldn’t even go tonight.

Maybe she would.

“Bug, you’re….what do I call her Ma?” shouted Jamar not sounding as tired as a man that spent most of the night making love and out of the apartment should.

Aunty June exhaled a sigh of irritation. “Your step-mother is in front!” she screeched.

Logan rolled her eyes and zipped up her duffel bag before zooming through the apartment. “Bye, guys! See you whenever.” Her response was a chorus of colorful good-byes from the duo.

In little to no time with the assistance of the elevator reached the ground floor and was outside in a matter of minutes. As promised was her step-mother’s green impala, with her golden hair down to her shoulders. Carol looked like she was dressed for the gym in her purple and black alethic wear. Logan refrained from making a snide internal comment; Carol sure had plenty of free time on her hand to spend her father’s money.

“Good morning, Logan.” Carol had greeted cheerfully as Logan entered the passenger seat.

Tossing her bag in the backseat, Logan muttered a response.

Carol smiled brightly at her, starting up the car. It would appear she was in a good mood today – not that Logan cared anyway. She pulled out of the parking spot and drove on the main traffic. Logan checked her watch, it was 7:45AM and she could not afford to be late to her morning shift. Sure, the manager wouldn’t mind but early morning was when the tips flowed in.

Nervously she continued to nimble her lip, the sped increasing when they came into the heavy traffic. Running her hand over her arm, she shook her head. She should have walked, she might have been sweaty and smelly when she met there but she would be on time at least and so far it didn’t look like she would be.

Even Carol seemed perturbed by the traffic, swearing under her breathe and checking her watch.

Logan almost laughed. What would her father think seeing his sweet wife pink faced and swearing? _Damn_ , she thought, _should have taken my phone out of my duffel bag_.

“I’ll call Mr. Crane and explain to him you’ll be late because of this damned traffic from hell,” Carol explained taking out her sleek mobile and tapping away. Plucked brows furrowed in concentration, sometimes Logan saw her as who she was. A mother and wife and not the woman who married her father so soon after he left her mother, she knew her dislike for the woman wasn’t necessary and made no sense but dammit – she couldn’t help it (or simply refused to).

“Thanks,” she told her, although Carol wasn’t listening to her right now. Scratching the back of her neck, she eyed her bag in the backseat and picked up her duffel bag – sifting through it for her make-up bag. Smirking in victory when she found it, Logan pulled out her burgundy bag and dropped to bag back in the back of the car. Taking out her phone, she slid it into the glove department and took out her powder – beginning to work on her AM face.

It while she was dusting the powder brush on her nose did she notice the curious gaze of blue eyes at the corner of her eyes. Pausing mid-stroke, she rolled the window down of the passenger side and cocked an eyebrow at him. Granted, normally she wouldn’t boldly acknowledge the existence of an attractive stranger but lately her confidence has been improving.

He was handsome in a boyish way but older than her by a good couple years. Sharp jaw and soft black hair – like someone she knew.

“Hi.” He said with a smirk, he looked confident. Generally so and also as if he knew something she didn’t – humor, for some reason swam in his blue eyes and she wanted to slap his handsome face.

“Hey.” She replied, finishing off her brush job before taking out her lipstick.

He groaned. “Lipstick?”

Logan blinked, looking at him and then at her trusty lipstick before silently agreeing. Replacing it with a simple gloss instead – she was going to work not a runway, no need to put on too much make-up.  “Thanks, GQ.” She offered, smacking her lips together.

He waved a large hand – his hand she observed, wasn’t as delicate as she would have assumed for someone who appeared so polished and posh. “All in a days’ work, Logan.” he said off-handedly before his black car drove east and her green car west. But wait a second, she said to herself – as she took out her eyeliner.

How on earth did he know her name?


	4. Milkshakes and Slippery Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner but I've started my BA in English and it's sooo hard tbh. Any English majors willing to help a girl? (jk)
> 
> (...kinda)
> 
> Semi-pleased with this chapter. Do leave your thoughts and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.

Damian Wayne huffed as he let go of the salamander and dropped onto his feet. For the past two hours he had been in the exercise room, going at the equipment to empty his head of the thoughts that invaded it. His own weakness, the insistent nagging of his thoughts and damnable feelings that roamed inside his head, he worked his body through them. He had memories of his mother’s attack – his grandfather, emotions that he managed the work through over the years but managed to wear its ugly head every now and again. He tried to think of his family as is, his father – Dick, Alfred, Tim (though Tim was not what he considered a brother, by any means) and even Jason, who’d been lurking around Gotham more often lately.  
Closing his eyes, Damian clenched his fists before dropping flat on the ground to do push-ups.

  
The burning that travelled through his arms and back were a welcomed hum for the sixteen year old, he was mid-way of his hundredth push-up when he caught a speck of dark color in front of him. Pushing himself onto his feet, with one vicious shove, Damian stood at his full height to face the first Robin.

  
Richard Grayson was older than Damian by a good decade or so, which only made him twenty-six to his sixteen. The older man could still look down at Damian, given his taller and leaner acrobat’s figure. His blue eyes bore down upon Damian’s green ones, dark hair falling to his forehead. He was wearing his police uniform, which caused the younger male to scowl briefly.  
He could never understand why Dick chose to be an officer as well as a costumed hero. Wasn’t the monotony stifling? Or, he wondered – was the fact that he in some way did not have to hide his true nature safer and saner.

  
“Dick.” Damian said sharply but not impolite, refusing to further dwell inside his mind. Richard was one of his only friends.

  
Richard smiled, brotherly and kindly. “How are you?”

  
“I am unsure as to how to describe my current emotion state. Physically, I am perfectly healthy.”

  
“Emotional state?”

  
“My emotions, my thoughts. My weaknesses.”

  
“Emotions are not weaknesses, Damian.”

  
Damian clenched his jaw. “Not all of them…but some of them, when magnified.”

  
Richard shook his head. “Think of it like your sword. It’s dangerous but it’s all about how you wield it.”

  
After some contemplation Damian wiped his brow and looked at his older brother. “It’s easier said than done.” The young Wayne admitted hesitantly.

  
“Most things are.” Pointed out Richard, shrugging as he walked about the work-out room.

  
Damian rolled his eyes. “Tf,” He grunted, untying his fists and fingers.

  
Richard smiled, slapping a hand on his back. “Take a shower and get dressed, we’re going downtown.”

  
To which Damian smirked, he hadn’t had a good milkshake in a while. It was almost lunch anyway, he supposed. What harm would a milkshake do? Anyway, not that Damian would admit it but he missed Dick and if this was how he got to spend time then so is it.

 

  
(||||)

 

  
It was noon and her lunch was a half an hour away when the pet store got a call from the other side of town to drop off its weekly supply of cat and dog food as well as a replacement assortment of toys – exactly like the last supply. Usually it was Jose who did the drops to that side of town but today was her lucky day. (Please note that there was a rich supply of sarcasm in the previous sentence.) At least, Jerry, the manager was nice enough to load up the beat up van with most of the supplies but she of course would have to carry them in to the manor herself. The drive took ten minutes and then she had to wait for five to be allowed inside. She was lucky the old van hadn’t collapsed on her. It was sure that Jerry sure as hell wouldn’t refund her even if it was on the job. Turning the gas off, Logan exited the vehicle with clipboard and keys in hand. Opening the van’s backdoors, she rested the clipboard and keys on top of the larger box (this must have been the one with the food) and braced herself as she carried it to the door which was a good twenty feet away. She set it down with a thud onto the wooden front before the grand double doors; it was massively too big for a door – iron knockers with detailed metal faces.

  
Huffing, she pushed her glasses up which had slid down her nose and rubbed the appendage. “Rich people with too much damn money.” She muttered under her breathe, ignoring the sweat that trickled down her forehead from the strain of fetching the heavy load. Quickly, as the toys for animals were lighter, she placed aside the larger box before using the knocker for the door.  Her upper arms felt heavy and were burning her, wiping off the sweat from her forehead onto her jeans Logan wondered how unprofessional it would be to plant her arse on the floor while she waited for someone to answer the door.

  
She was half-way on the floor when the door was parted to bring out a dignified older man with grey hair and a pleasant smile.

  
Logan straightened her back and pushed her glasses up again. “Uh, g-good day sir, I, uh, I’m from the pet store. I’ve got the packages that were ordered by uh, Mr. Damian Wayne.”

  
“One second then.”  The nice older man closed the door and disappeared for a moment, a teenager appeared almost instantaneously – a blank and piercing gaze, green eyes that reminded her of a cat. No, not those posh spoiled kitties but a predator’s gaze, a jungle cat. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing workout clothes that seemed to reek of sweat.

  
“Uh, pet store.” She stuttered, shoving with shaking hands her clipboard and pen into his ridiculously handsome face.

  
He raised an eyebrow, taking the pen and scribbling his signature on the line beside her thumb. Quickly, she pulled the plastic board to her chest. “Thank you for shopping with Pet Paradise, do shop again!” The words came out rushed and probably jumbled but she made her escape quick, trying her hardest not to stumble and she swore – honest to god, that he waited until she was at the bottom of the stairs to say, with a sadistic humor.

  
“Don’t you want a tip?” He called, and if she didn’t know any better she’d have sworn she heard amusement in his voice but it was neutral. Slightly turning her head, she saw him standing on the first of five stairs, holding out a fifty dollar bill.

  
There were a lot of things she could do with that fifty dollars – buy a quality lipstick or contour set for one. 

  
Snatching it from his hand she muttered a ‘Thanks,’ before running back to the car and ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of her head that told her to look back. Logan drove on.

 

(||||)

  
Damian could help to slight smirk that came to his face as he watched the beat up Pet Paradise van drive off of the property. It looks like half of his detective work was done when it came to the case of Tim’s Logan Williams. She was prettier than he had expected, the awkward school photos that Gotham High’s Drama Club had posted on the internet did not justice. Logan had rich brown skin that was naturally gifted and sun tanned as well, her dark hair was long and even in the horrible pony – he wanted to run his fingers through it – tug it and feel it’s tresses in his fist as he –

  
_Oh_ , he thought with a smirk, hoisting the box and bag she’d left.

  
There was no way Tim was keeping her to himself, now.

  
“Master Damian, I must admit it is nice to see a smile on your face but I must also be wary of what could be the reason for such a smile.” Alfred commented, taking the bag from his hand and walking beside him to the pet’s pantry in the east wing.

  
Damian offered nothing but a slight upturn of the corner of his as a reply. “Let’s just say I may not notice Drake’s absence as I thought I would.”

 

 

(||||)

 

  
When she returned to the pet store that afternoon, her half an hour was already used up and she had to man the counter. She was miserable until her shift was over, surviving on a smoothie she snagged when she went to help an old lady outside with her cat scratcher.  The time came achingly slow for closing, but at least it came and she could celebrate her freedom until tomorrow morning when she had to work again. It was twilight when she’d finished and Logan was starving, she wasn’t a skinny thing that ate rarely or one of those girls who were ashamed to say she wanted a burger and right she craved a chicken burger at Ma’s Diner near the bus stop. Logan jiggled the keys in her pocket; there was a spare to Aunty June’s apartment and a key for home. 

  
Pushing the glass door open of the Diner, she inhaled the smell of grease and fried food as well as freshly baked pies and pastries. Oh, she was definitely about to put on five pounds from lard and she was going to enjoy it. Quickly she secured a booth by the window with the painted on logo of the diner, to wait for her friend to meet her. Sliding in, she ignored the squeaking of the plastic chair and sat the end of it.

  
Taking out her phone, she tapped at the keyboard and sent her friend, Elyria a text message. Her friend, though supposedly older and mature since she was the one dating a hot older guy - with a motorcycle, that she totally didn’t see when she slept over one night a couple of months ago.

  
**Sry I’m late, baby-boy came over. I’m omw rn**. – Elyria.

  
Robin couldn’t control the rolling of her eyes. Seriously? Her boyfriend comes back into town after how many weeks and she just up and abandons her for him. She sighed, who she was kidding. If she had a boyfriend that looked anything like Elyria’s, she’d abandon the world too.

  
**K, I’ll b waitin girlie**. – Logan.

  
Switching out of the app, she went to a game she’d downloaded on her phone for Micah, because even though the boy was barely out of his pull-ups he’d mastered technology already.  She quickly became entrapped into the game, barely noticing the red haired waiter that came to her table until he cleared his throat. Jumping slightly, she covered her mouth as a yelp escaped. The waiter smirked before asking her what she wanted.

  
“Can I just get a bottle of water, right now? I’m waiting on a friend.” She asked voice soft.

  
The waiter, whose tag spelt – Colin, nodded. “Coming right up,”

  
Logan took out her phone and looked at her reflection. She’d washed off her make-up before closing and reapplied a modest layer of powder and mascara. You never know who ran into and with her luck she’d run into one of the pretentious snobs from her school. She was not in any mood to have her self-esteem broken down by a mere look. Sniffing, she laid the phone on the dubiously clean table top and scrolled down her messages.

  
A bunch was from her network provider. One from the group chat for her schools environmental club which she was a member of, something about cancelling a meeting she wasn’t going to anyway. It was her most recent message that made her eyebrow rise – they were from two strange numbers she’d never seen before but it wasn’t that it was a strange number that shocked her but the content of the message.

  
There was only one person who’d text those kinds of messages. But how’d he get her number? Shaking her head, she decided to just reply – inkling just as much of mystery as she could. 

 

TO: 555-667-8999  
FROM: 555-689-0033  
- How’d you get my number, Red?  
- And also, did you leave Gotham this morning via fancy car?

 

TO: 555-689-0033  
FROM: 555-667-8999  
- I have my sources.  
- ……..

 

TO: GQ  
FROM: 555-6980-0033  
- I KNOW IT  
- You’re kind of hot btw

 

TO: Logan.  
FROM: GQ  
- *Knew  
- …thanks.  
- You’re not so bad yourself.  
- Especially in those tank tops.

 

Logan looked down at her phone, blush evident in her mocha cheeks as she grinned.  Maybe that kiss was the start of something? She looked around the diner, not seeing anyone paying her any mind and rapidly typed back a message.

  
TO: GQ  
FROM: Logan.  
- Thanks there, birdbrain.  
- When are you coming back to town?

  
TO: Logan.  
FROM: GQ  
- Miss me already, Logan?  
- Soon.

  
TO: GQ  
FROM: Logan.  
- How soon?  
- Weeks?  
- Months?  
- …..longer?

  
TO: Logan.  
FROM: GQ  
- Soon as I can.

  
TO: GQ  
FROM: Logan.

  
- Okay.  
- Be safe, then.  
- You owe me a real date.

  
TO: Logan.  
FROM: GQ  
- Oh, Logan.  
- The things I have in store for you…

 

“Told you I wouldn’t be long,” Elyria announced, interrupting her abruptly, jerking Logan into the real world. She pushed her glasses up her nose and placed her phone face down. Elyria looked too sex-drunk to even notice and god – did it look like she was trying really hard to focus. The older woman sat down from her wobbly stance and pulled her long hair to cover her spotted neck and cleavage.

  
“Well someone was having a better Saturday than me.” Spat Logan without spite. 

  
The bitch (she calls her this with fondness only a friend can call a friend with) has the nerve to blush and giggle like a schoolgirl and not the college student she was, Logan rolled her brown eyes. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, okay? He said hey by the way.”

  
Logan waves her off, paying attention to the waiter who has returned, Colin and smiles at the handsome red head that places a bottle of water beside her phone. “Can I have a large chicken burger with wedges and one of your famous vanilla milkshakes? Oh and a slice of Oreo cheesecake afterwards, please.” He makes quick work to scribble her order before moving onto Elyria and taking her order. Not as greasy as her own but she supposes the girl doesn’t have much appetite for food right now.

  
Logan is about to give her grief for it, a smart comment or something when the diner door opens with a ding and she sees the customer from early enter. He looks even better with his black jacket on and white t-shirt, there’s a knowing, cocky smirk on his face – it’s like he owns the place. He knows and deserves every look casted his arrogant way.

  
She denies the little flip in her stomach and unscrews her bottle.

  
If she was luck he’d ignore her, wouldn’t even recognize that she’s there. Of course, luck has never really been on her side because as soon as he takes a seat on the counter, besides a handsome blue eyed man with broad shoulders and black hair his eyes makes four with hers and he winks.

  
Oh, God.

 

(Did someone say _sex-drive_?)

 

 

**unedited**

 

 


	5. Greasy  Encounters

Honestly, it wasn’t planned. All he wanted was to check out Colin, as he had not seen his friend for over two weeks. Damien only had a handful of them (friends) anyway, so he tried to keep track of them. Richard had tagged along only _because_ , no real reason. But when he walked into the tiny little diner and saw Drake’s friend – he couldn’t help but smirk to himself. She was tasty looking thing, even in the booth and with the exhausted look on her face. Within the confines of the old brown jacket, he could see her Pet Paradise t-shirt which was stained – something added from the last time he saw her a few hours ago.

She looked up at him then down, eyes quick and darting before looking into his eyes again. Her eyes were big. Short, thick lashes framed the brown colored irises, amber in the sunlight which streamed from the large window.

He winked at her and smiled as her cheeks reddened, and she directed her attention to her phone. Damian chuckled, shaking his head, as he took a seat beside Richard. The woman behind the counter was a portly, Hispanic woman whose smile was charming despite the large space between her two front teeth. She pressed her elbows onto the counter, as she asked them what they wanted to order. “Just a cheeseburger and water for me, Ma’am,” supplied Richard, giving her his own smile.

The woman then turned her gaze to him. “What about you, honey?”

Damien looked at the board, scanning for a vegetarian option. There didn’t seem to have much, which was typical of a downtown Gotham restaurant. “I will have a seasoned pigeon peas plate.”

The woman winked at him, he barely looked at her collar to see her nametag. Margret, it said. Damien picked up one of the spoons that were laid there already, he saw the reflection of the girl, Logan slouched into the booth, eyes wide and wild as she spoke animatedly to her friend.

“Richard.” Damien said quietly, not taking his eyes off of the reflection in his spoon.

“Hmm,” hummed his older brother, who hadn’t paid much attention to anything since he got a mysterious text at the milkshake shop. He looked up from his phone that had not pinged or beeped in hours.

“What do you think of that girl? The one with the glasses,” Richard turned his head slightly, stiffening a bit before relaxing and rolling his board shoulders.

“Got a crush, Baby Bat?” he teased, his fingers twitched as he picked up his cell phone.

Damien scoffed, taking his jacket off, flexing his muscles beneath his white t-shirt. “Something like that, Dick.”

He eyed her again, smirked apples appeared in her cheeks, as Colin placed her plate before her.

Something like _that_.

|IIIII|

Logan pressed her hands to her cheeks. Slouching in the plastic booth, she pressed her phone to her chest and stared at her burger, eyes bouncing towards him and her food. Since when did rich boys eat in shitty diners this part of town? Picking up her fry, she squeezed a line of ketchup on it and placed the fried potato between her buns. She meticulously did this with about ten fries, watching the Wayne kid with a wary gaze.

Her friend, although absorbed into her phone still managed to catch what she thought was casual glances. Elyria snapped her fingers and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “What?” asked Logan, picking up another fry and squeezing more ketchup.

“What are you staring at?” the older girl inquired, not looking behind her however, whatever was happening on her phone much more imperative.

Logan stuffed some fries into her mouth and grinned instead, hoping that the very attractive man didn’t see her.

But, with her luck, he naturally did.

And the bastard smiled.

It was tiny and she could tell he probably didn’t do it often, but he smiled.

And she choked on her fries.

Elyria tapped her back, rubbing it over the thick jacket. “Easy there, Logan. Chew and swallow, take a break and drink some water.” Slowly, Logan managed to spit out the potatoes into a tissue and sip on her bottle of water returning to normal.

During the exchange the young Wayne and his companion had turned their gaze to them. The younger one wore a look of amusement whilst the other had a look of recognition and his eyebrows drew upwards, but his gaze wasn’t directed at her, Logan realized, but Elyria. Elyria seemed to recognize him too, but it wasn’t a pleasant look like the one he gave.

“Logan, I have to go to the bathroom.” She said, abruptly leaving.

The man stood up to, muttering something before following her.

The two teenagers looked on at the display with brows raised. (Damian was much more subtle of course.)

“Who are _you_?” questioned the young Wayne, eyeing her from his seat.

“Logan Williams.” She responded, her eyes glancing down to her phone.

There were three unread messages and she ignored the buzz that rung through her at the fact.

“Damian.” The proximity of the voice jumped her, how had he moved from the counter to the booth? She held her phone in her trembling hands and bit her lip.

She heard a soft sound, almost a low groan. Damian’s face was stony, so she knew it wasn’t him. “This doesn’t seem like your kind place,” she blabbered. “I mean, do you even come to downtown Gotham regularly?”

He cocked his head to the side. “My brother comes here often.”

Logan rolled her shoulders then eyes. “Okay,”

“We have a mutual friend.”

That stilled any movement she made. Carefully, she brushed her finger along the warm bun. “Elyria?” she decided to play dumb. “I thought it was odd.” She referenced the interaction between their friends.

 Damien shook his head. “No. Not, her.” He took a step forward, eyeing her booth. “Don’t suppose you would mind my company as our acquaintances have left us to our own devices.” She opened her mouth to speak but he’d already slipped into Elyria’s side of the booth. Taking a seat, she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. Irritation swelling within her at his arrogance, he seemed to pick it up and offered her a smirk.

“What are you even doing here?” she questioned, coming off a bit rude on purpose but he didn’t look as if he minded, finding her funny.

He gave her an unimpressed look. “I love the pigeon peas plate.”

It was her turn to look unimpressed. “Vegan?” she spat out contemptuously, picking up a single fry and chewing it carefully.

“The issue being?” he asked smarmily.

Logan eyed him, the board shoulders and large frame did not look like a vegan’s. In her mind, the stereotypical vegan was supposed to be skinny and self-righteous. Well, he got one part right. “You don’t look it.” She supplied simply, taking a small bite of her burger, trying to be as lady-like as she could possibly get.

He rolled his eyes. “What, pray tell, is your diverse and educated catalogued collection of all the vegan _looks_ of the world?”

“Not you, _honeychild_.” She pointed out, directing her fork at him, oily French fry sadly drooping.

He eyed it warily. “What are you doing working at a pet store?”

“Getting paid, _duh_ ,” She imagined he restrained himself from rolling his eyes again. “I like animals.”

Damien hummed, he didn’t reply, stretching his arm across the back of the booth seat. His muscles flexed, tense and ready, instinctively. The white t-shirt stretched across his firm torso. She wondered, how she compared, sitting across from him with a pudgy stomach and undone hair. _Damn_ , she thought, _I’ve got to go the saloon_. She still had his fifty dollar tip burning in her back pocket anyway.

“Do you like movies?” he asked abruptly.

“Um,”

“Yes or no, there is no need for hesitation.”

_Yes, there is if it means going with a hunk of sex like yourself when I’m not totally in control of myself._

Damn libido!

“Yes. I like movies.”

“Then let’s go.”

“But my friend –”

“Is well taken care of, I assure you.”

“But –”

“What? Do you have something better to do?”

“Well, no.”

“Then let’s go _sugarlips_.”

The nickname made her jerk, it’s blatantly mocking tone had almost caused her water to fire through her nostrils. Damien looked at her with a blank expression, face steely but his eyes glinted like a snake’s in the fluorescent light. “What?”

She shook her head, wrapping her burger with a tissue and sliding it into the paper bag it came with. “Nothing, let’s go.”

|IIIII|

“You can’t stay locked in the bathroom forever, Elle.” Richard attempted to reason.

He heard a slight muffled mutter on the other side of the wall. “Afraid you’ll have to speak up.”

“I said go away you – you – you stubborn mule.”

Richard chuckled. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

“Oh shut it, big head!” she argued angrily.

“Well, just know I’m going to be out here for a while and feel free to ring Jason up too – I know you like your Robins in double…” if that didn’t make her swing the door open fast enough, he doesn’t know what else could possibly have.

“Don’t you go there, Mr. One-Minute-I’m-Dead-Super-Agent-Next-Minute-I’m-Alive-Batman.” He hissed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s been a week,”

“I should make it longer.” She sneered, folding her arms.

Richard rolled his eyes, placing a hand on the framework of the washroom door. “Don’t be like that Elle, I know you need both of us…it’s always been that way.” Like lightning, her hand flew to his mouth.  Her eyes wide and lips in a tight line, she was always very private. “Stop it, _Dick_.” He smirked behind her palm before licking it.

“What are you twelve?” she growled, wiping her hand on his shirt.

He chuckled. “We both know the answer to that question, don’t we?”

Yes, she thought to herself, holding her breathe and ignoring the weakness in her knees. She definitely did.

|IIIII|

 

Logan didn’t know what came over her, but she was damn sure it wasn’t common sense. Because common sense would not have her in some abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of Gotham, her jacket tied around her waist and her shoes discarded to some corner of the floor. Yes, the floor, because apparently little rich boys knew all the deep, dark corners of the city she’d never had the opportunity to explore before. The building was owned by some famous mobster family decades ago and had been left abandoned for the past couple years after the last line was shipped off to Arkham. Logan covered a giggle that threatened to escape from her mouth; Damien was dangling off the ceiling, in a very impressive acrobatic style.

She noticed, even in play he seemed stiff and alert – calculated and not like a teenage boy. However, she supposed that was just who he was because he seemed very at home with himself, a confidence she could never muster with her foundation and highlighter.

With finesse, Damien jumped from his dangerous perch, with a stylish flip, landed on his feet with a thud – right in front of her. The bastard hadn’t even broken a sweat. Logan clapped and whistled and Damien smirked, accustomed to praise and not at all surprise or complimented by it.

It seemed as though the sky was blue and in the same fact, Damien Wayne was great.

Logan almost scoffed at the thought, _bullshit_. “You’re very cocky, you know that?” she pointed out, poking his firm chest.

“Tf.” He grumbled, looking down at her hand in a way that made her immediately drop it. “It’s confidence. I am confident because I am sure of my greatness, Log-an.”

She swallowed, folding her arms under her breasts. “Okay, arrogant little shit.”

He laughed, dry and humorlessly at her comment, before bringing a hand to her chin – holding her face for inspection under his curious green eyes. “I see it now,” he commented, more to himself than her.

“See what?” Instead, Damien didn’t answer, he held her elbow instead and dragged her up pitch black steps onto the rooftop of the building. Now, she thought her aunt’s building offered a view – nothing compared to what she was seeing now. Those lights glittered on like her own sea of stars and the sounds of the city loud and chaotic; her own orchestra.

Logan hadn’t realized she was holding her breathe until she released a deep sigh of satisfaction. “This is beautiful,” she commented, leaning over the balcony of the roof. The people scurrying ants trying to beat the summer heat, who couldn’t love Gotham city?

She turned her head around to see her companion, but he was gone – all that was left was air. Logan furrowed her brows and scoffed.

“ _Unbelievable_.”

 


	6. Getting  Started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited, leave encouragement. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

“What’s unbelievable?”

Logan shrieked, jumping backwards and falling flat on her ass – hitting the dirty floor of the rooftop. Her hand flew to her heart and she hopped to her feet, hoping the back of her brown jacket hadn’t gathered any dirt. She narrowed her eyes at Damien’s unimpressed face, reading the slight signs of amusement at the corners of his olive eyes.

Clearing her throat, she returned to her place, and the view. Ignoring, Damien’s perch on the edge of the rooftop – she took a seat and swung her legs over. Reminding herself to be careful because Red wasn’t there to catch her if she fell.

“This view.” She stated, chin jutted out as she stared at the tall skyscrapers.

Damien scoffed, taking a seat beside her. He moved comfortably beside her, slithering about like an anaconda in a rainforest, he acted like rooftops were his territory. She felt a little possessive for a brief moment. “You thought I had left, didn’t you, Logan?” he asked, words precise and tone clear.

She shrugged. “Well,”

“I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.” He pointed out, swiftly standing to his feet – heavy boots balancing on the inches wide perch. The sentence hung in her head, she felt a weight behind it and it settled within her chest. Damien stared at her intensely and she couldn’t help but fidget. “Get up,” he ordered in a short and rude tone.

She raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He gave a grunted. “Tf,” before picking her up into his arms, Logan squeaked at the lift, her feet dangled a good few inches off the ground. “I don’t see anyone else here, _sugarlips_ ,”

It’s that damn nickname again, and it makes her growl at him – even as he holds her as if she doesn’t weigh over one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Damien smirks at her displeasure. “Put me down brat,”

Holding her upper arms, he passes his tongue over the back of his front teeth. “I’ll put you down,” with a thud, he dropped her to her feet on the rooftop – backing the light of the city; he seemed to glow, like a dark prince with a permanent sneer and stern gaze.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes and untied her jacket from round her waist. Placing the jacket over her stained t-shirt, Logan eyed him – he was beautiful, that was for sure but he was way above her league. Or maybe that was just how she saw him right now, standing there looking so goddamn poetic. Logan was not fit for poetry.

“I’m leaving.” She announced back away, hands in her jacket pockets. “This was nice,”

“The night isn’t over yet, or do you have a curfew, _Logan_?” his tone was mocking and for the first time in his carefully spoken English she heard the hints of another language.

“I’m seventeen years old.” She pointed out, folding her arms beneath her breasts – jutting them out unintentionally. Damien noticed, but quickly regained connection with her eyes, brown and full.

“Therefore there’s no need for you to leave now,” he said, hopping down from the ledge, his fall graceful. “…unless you’re uncomfortable around me?” Damien questioned.

Humming, she tightened the hold of the jacket around her curvy torso. “Never said that,”

He smirked. “Didn’t have to,”

No, she didn’t – she hadn’t a feeling he knew a lot of things she didn’t have to tell him.

**|IIIIII|**

Cassandra Sandsmark stared at him in a way that made him considerably uncomfortable. Tim shifted in the chair of her apartment living room, her blue eyes cold and electric – blonde hair alive and wild around her charming face. There was a time when he was in love with that face, now he just saw a friend, one of few he had left. They were no longer teenagers, a part of a banded group held together by duct tape and safety pins. She knew him well, from years of friendship and a short lived romance.

Which was why he’d turned off his phone to prevent from glancing at the screen again – Red Robin didn’t get anxious but Tim Drake sure as hell did.

“How’ve things been?” he asked, fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt.

She ran her fingers through her hair and shrugged. “As good as it can be with our fearless leader MIA.”

He smirked at the joke, they’d all branched off – buried friends and started lives but somehow they always found themselves back where it all started. He rolled his shoulders. “I just came by to lend a hand to the New Titans, Raven’s been helping out with them so I might as well…”

Cassandra snorted. “Of course you do Tim,” her thumbs hooked the belt loops of her jeans, the washed out blue hugged her thighs as she crossed her legs – the seat from the kitchen counter which wasn’t far from the living room gave her a total layout of her apartment. “You’ve got your responsibilities,” she mocked before her tone became stern. “…by the way, when’s the other Robin coming back? The two of you seem to be enjoying your time away a lot lately.”

Tim leaned back into the cheap but soft couch. “Gotham is where we belong.”

“As long as you two are together, huh?”

Tim stilled, giving her a heated side-glance. “You guys are my family too.”

Cassandra chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think you and little Robin are having brotherly feelings for each other.”

The right side of his mouth quirked upwards for a moment before falling back to its still, straight place – he wasn’t the only detective on his old team. “How astute of you, Cassie.” He complimented, tone sarcastic and exasperated, knowing there was no use to hide anything from her.

Gliding off of her kitchen counter, Cassandra picked up an old leather jacket and covered herself; dangling her keys between two manicured fingers. “Let’s pay a visit to our friends.”

He chuckled, putting his hands in his front pockets. She drives of course, to downtown San Francisco and their friends are at a bar with a half-moon dangling off the front of it. He hadn’t expected to make such permanent friends, after initiating the resurgence of the Teen Titans then witnessing it mold his bro–boyfriend, he would be the first to admit it was an integral part of him.

The duo made their way through the crowded bar, ignoring the sound of a mediocre band echoed as much as the rowdy voices of the college aged and young professional crowd. Tim stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather sports jacket and smiled at the view of some of his friends, Raven – who went by Rachel Roth in public, black tresses, tied back exposing a regal and mysterious face. Then there was Bunker, who wore an ensemble in hues of purple. He smiled brightly at the pair as they entered. Bart sat at the bar stool, holding a can of ginger ale. Almost all of his friends were there – some, would never be able to join them like that.

So as Tim slid into a bar stool and munched on a pretzel, greeting them all. He appreciated that, in all its fullness.

**|IIIIII|**

Logan would never admit it as she climbed over the rickety fence of the neighborhood park, that it was thrilling. She’d never done something like that before and it was the second place she snuck into for the night! She didn’t even care about Damien definitely staring at her ass as she travestied the fence. It was a personal victory that she made it over to the other side. She even beamed at Damien that was before the showoff made what she pushed through in five minutes in ten seconds.

Kissing her teeth, she turned on the heels of her sneakers. “Showoff,”

The young man chuckled. “There’s no shame in me being physically superior to you, Logan.”

“Oh, fuck you pretty boy.” She cursed, shoving a middle finger behind her – at his general direction.

“Tf,” he grunted. “I’d watch my tongue if I were,” he grabbed her hand and forced her finger down. “You do not want to make promises you can’t keep.”

All of a sudden the air was not so light and playful – there stood a tension now where all those things were before. The air was heavy and she coughed to clear her throat. “Let go of my hand.”

With a smirk, he dropped her hand. “As you wish,” he mocked.

Narrowing her eyes she folded her arms. Damien irritated her to no end and she’d only known him for a couple of hours. He was oddly _charming_. As wrong as the word felt in connection with him, _handsome,_ even – there existed an undeniable attractiveness about him. However, he was arrogant and felt he was better than everyone else. The worst part was, that it actually seemed like he _was_. Flicking off a small leaf from her jeans, she kissed her teeth and shoved a finger to his chest.

“You’re an asshole, I mean like a real, big, fat, stinky asshole.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth but she continued, poking his chest as he stepped forward. “I mean, yes, I’ve had fun tonight but you have been unnecessarily rude and so damn, cocky.”

He was nonplused, as if nothing she said was effective, as if he’d heard it all before.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Damien cocked his head to side. “I think you’ve said enough,” he pointed out, his tone not telling. “But frankly, I think, no I _know_ , that you find it refreshing.” He touched her shoulder briefly. “Don’t you, _Lo_ - _gan_.” His breathe was hot and she felt it against her skin, she breathed and licked her lips. What was she doing? She just kissed someone last night, someone she knew she had a connection with. What was she doing here, having someone so close to her, enjoying him like this, like she enjoyed Red. Logan took a step back. Her back jammed a tree. The leaves shook, and Damien boxed her in.

“I think you’ve made your point,” she said, breathlessly.

He laughed, leaning his head against her neck. “No, Logan. I think I’ve just started.”

 

 

When she was home, the one on Barnes Avenue, in the apartment with her aunt and Jamar as she didn’t think she could make it to her real one. Logan hadn’t gone to shower right away, after she stripped down, she stared at the off-white ceiling. Thinking about what had happened tonight. What was she doing? Was she wrong to want Red and be interested in Damien? _God_ , she pinched the bridge of her nose, _did this make her a whore?_ No, how could it? She hadn’t even touched Damien! Although she wanted to…that was true, but they had only just meant and were horribly new to each other. Red was a friend. That’s a fact and whatever attraction existed was nurtured and mutual.

Logan sighed.

Since when did someone like her have anyone sparing a glance that wasn’t creepy or reciprocated? This was all so horribly new. However, as she lay in her bed – looking out at what specks of Gotham city she could see, Logan knew she needed to keep her distance from Damien Wayne.

Her phone binged at her side, the screen lit with a message. Groaning, she rolled over and unplugged her cellphone. It was a message from Elyria apologizing about what happened, about ditching her. Logan rolled her eyes.

Had her friend even knew she left too?

**Cool. – Logan.**

She scrolled down her other messages, smiling when she saw that Red had sent her some. However, that smile soon turned into a frown when she realized it was sent hours ago. She wondered where he was right now; would there be a time difference? If she messaged him, she wondered if she’d be disturbing him. Clearing her throat, she decided it wouldn’t do much harm to message him.

 

TO: LOGAN

FROM: GQ

  * I’ll be coming home.
  * Well, I have been for a while but it’ll be official.



 

TO: GQ

FROM: LOGAN

  * Ohhh
  * That’s good.
  * That is good, right?
  * You want to be here?



She stared at the screen for a couple more minutes. Eyeing the clock at the right corner of her screen, the time ticked by before she decided to plug her charger in and head off for a shower.

Maybe she just needed to stop overthinking so much. _Maybe_.


	7. The Kids Are Alright

The next morning greeted her with ease that only Sunday could bring. Sun danced across the white window sill of her bedroom, the white blinds floated in the air as the wind traveled in. It was picturesque, almost. Expect she could hear the Spanish curses of the neighbours across the street – broken English blended with fluent Cuban Spanish. Logan rubbed her eyes before getting up to close the window. She cringed as the air tickled her skin, realizing she hadn’t showered from the night before. Nor did she wear a shirt to bed.

_Damn._

Grabbing her phone from off the ground, beside her bed, she unlocked the device and saw a line of missed calls – starting from six am. She didn’t recognize the number and didn’t remember giving it out to anyone. Taking a seat of the ground, she reached to her nightstand and put her glasses on.

Tapping the call back button, she pressed her phone to her ear, she waited. Two rings later a curt voice answered. “You wake up at an unreasonably late time.”

Logan bit her tongue to hold back a curse. “Damien,” she growled, in what she hoped would be an intimidating voice. “How in all that is good and godly did you get my number?”

She was sure he was smirking. “I have my ways,”

“Dam–”

“What are you doing today?”

The question stomped her, it was Saturday – who did anything on a Saturday? “Nothing productive since you have yet to respond, therefore you shall spend it with me. I’ll be at the building that I dropped you off last night. Bye, _sugarlips_.”

“F _ucker_!” she cursed, although he had long hung up the phone. Kissing her teeth, she slammed her phone to her bed before standing up and pacing around her room. Wondering how she always managed to be friends with weirdoes.

 

It hadn’t taken her long to shower and get ready. She combed her hair into two buns, curling two pieces of her hair with her fingers to curl her hair, framing her face. Languidly, she brushed her stick of lip gloss over her lips and filled her eyebrows. Logan took pride in trying to look nice, as it was something she never cared about before. When she was younger, she was chubbier, less curvy and that made for a torturous school life. She’d lost all confidence in herself, all meaning of self-esteem. Make-up was something that helped her; all those YouTube videos and tutorials did wonders for her. Smiling, she added a dash of highlighter to her cheeks and smiled at the reflection. It didn’t lessen her that she liked that, it was just something she liked. Not that she relied on it but it just felt good, a nice hobby with a nice outcome.

She slipped on a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were sliced and ripped to accommodate to steaming summer heat. Where was the dark and mean teenager? Perhaps, she mused, his fellow demons had dragged him under with the other unmannerly cretins? The mental image made her snort.

The custom ringing of her cellphone made her jolt mid-snort, shimmering down; she answered the mobile without looking at the caller’s ID. “Hello,”

“Logan,” teased a familiar male voice.

She grinned. “Red! How are you? Missing me already, birdbrain?”

The young man scoffed. “That nickname is idiotic.”

“I think it’s ah-mazing,”

“I think you enjoy irritating me.”

She laughed. “You know me so well, Red.”

“What are you up to, today?” he asked, and she heard muffled voices on the other line.

“Oh, just going out with a friend I made yesterday, his name is Damien…”

“Damien what?” he questioned in a cold, clinical voice.

She shivered, having never heard him in that tone before, she swallowed thickly. “Wayne. Damien Wayne.”

The line went silent and she swore she heard a growl. “Red?”

“Be careful, Logan.”

Then he hung up, leaving her very confused and conflicted. What was that? Rubbing her arm, she wondered if this was a wise decision to go out with Damien. She bit her lip and looked up and down the street, she could still go and hide – pretend that this was nothing. Pretend that she didn’t look forward to this in the far reaches of her mind. What was so bad? Damien probably didn’t even see her in any way. After she was a frumpy thing, make-up or not – Logan was just Logan. Even if he did, Red didn’t even bring up the kiss…Logan shook her head, this was nothing. 

Hand over her face, she stepped to her side without looking and slammed into someone. It was a tall, board shouldered Asian man with an earring in his right ear. He steadied her, she stiffened – recognizing him, in way you recognize a stranger on the street although you had no connection to them. She knew him. It was the man she’d seen Jamar with not an evening before. She bit her tongue.

He smiled down at her, politely and easy. “Be careful, kid.”

She smiled back, an uncomfortable grin as she nodded.

Lee, she thinks his name was, and hopes she doesn’t just automatically assumption because he’s Asian. She studies him, now in daylight and he’s gorgeous. He’s got a sharp jawline and the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen- he’s tall too, she knows him and her cousin make an attractive couple and wishes he could meet her aunt. But she knows how Caribbean parents are, she knows that may never happen.

“Thanks,” she muttered, finally finding her voice as he lets her go.

He waves it off and offers a hand. “Its fine,” she takes it. “I’m Logan,” she offers her name because for some reason, she wants to and she’s seen him naked before – so why not?

“Lee.” He says, preparing to walk off.

“Thanks for not biting off my head when I collided into you like half the citizens of Gotham would have,”

Lee laughs, shaking his dark hair. “It’s all good,” he waves her off before walking away. “Gotham can be too touchy,”

Logan is too busy watching him walk off to hear the upcoming roar of a motorbike’s engine but she does hear the sly, drawl greeting. “Logan,” don’t ask her how he could make her name sound so damn – _raw_. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel to see him leaning over his monster of a bike. Today, he wore a slim fitting blue jeans and a navy pullover. His black booted foot kept the bike balanced as he parked.  

“Nice jeans,” he pointed out in a bland tone before tossing a helmet her way.

She caught it, with all the grace that existed in her body which was not much. “Where exactly are we going?”

He winked at her. “It’s a surprise, _Lo_ – _gan._ ”

“I don’t trust you.” She said, balancing the heavy helmet on her hip.

“Good,” he slid pressed a button at the side of his own helmet after saying; “Neither do I.”

Somewhere, at the back of her mind, Logan is laughing at herself. Laughing because right now, she’s terrified and he should have known better than to get on the bike with that crazy rich boy. Sure, she’d been on Red’s bike before. It was a thing of beauty and just looking at it had dampened her panties. However, Damien was riding with such speed that it sent her hair flying in the wind with a furious rate.

If the wind was not hitting her face so harshly, she’d have pouted the loss of her hairstyle. She gripped Damien’s waist like her life depended on it and with the speed he was going, it probably did. If she knew any better, she’d have sworn she heard laughter but right now she couldn’t comprehend that.

When they finally did stop, Logan hopped off with wobbling feet.

She held herself, shaking like leaf in the wind as she struggled to gain footing.

Damien laughed, kicking the bike to stand. “I must remember not everyone has the capability to handle speed like I do,” he said. “Planning to regain your composure any time soon?” he asked, tone mocking.

She rolled her eyes, blowing a mouthful of air out. “Fuck you, Damien.”

“Whenever you’re ready, _sugarlips,_ ”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Tf,” he paused. “Hurry up, Logan. We don’t have all day to indulge in your little sickness.”

Finally feeling herself, she stood with her back utterly erect and stared at him with an irate look. “Ass,” she huffed, walking ahead of him to where she guessed was where they were headed. Outside hung a neon light spelling the letters, _S U R I J I’S_ , she was familiar with it. It was an Asian restaurant specializing in a blend of Indian and Japanese cuisine. Very pricey, clicking her tongue – Logan looked behind her to see Damien’s gaze distracted and his green eyes dark.

“Are we going in or what, Edward Cullen?”

“What?” he bristled, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as his eyes shoot back to her eyes – she smirks, realizing he was checking out her ass.

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Are we going in or not?”

He bristled. “Well, I certainly didn’t ride all the way here just to stare at the neon sign,” he rubbed his hands. “Ladies first,” he gestured towards the door, staring right into her eyes.

Wrapping her arms around herself she walked in first, Damien right behind her, his lean body slithering cool and easy – silent, she hadn’t heard him until his voice echoed towards the hostess who looked at him with wide blue eyes. “A table for Damien Wayne,”

Logan sneered and rolled her eyes. Would it kill him to say _please_? They were seated in no time and given menus; her hands felt the menu and realized that it most definitely wasn’t the plastic ones from the diner. Her eyes scanned the prices and widened, damn, she could afford glass water and maybe the curried chicken plate – and _that_ was cutting it close. “Pricey, pricey,” she hummed, passing her tongue over her lower lip.

“It’s a good thing you’re not paying then?”

“What?”

“I am aware that the appropriate norm for inviting someone out is to pay for their meal, otherwise it makes the manners lacking. And I am of proper breeding, Logan.” He commented, signaling for the waiter and ordering in fluent Hindi, for the both of them.

“I can pay for my own food, pretty boy.”

He waved her off. “Do not be unnecessarily difficult,”

Logan is not one to pass up on free food, especially with the reviews she’d read online for the restaurant so she decided to switch conversation. “What grade are you in?”

He looked at her warily. “I have completed my secondary school education and am currently pursuing my second bachelor’s.”

She blanched. “Dude, what?”

“I do not think I stuttered, Logan.”

She took a sip of the complimentary water and stared at the prodigal child. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,”

She smacked her lips. He was a year younger than her and had finished his high school career and was already getting his second degree? What the hell? She was barely passing calculus! Logan rubbed her chest to ease her heartbreak. “You’re a genius.”

“I know,”

“…what do you do for fun?”

“I enjoy martial arts, sparring, fencing and a bit of painting.”

“Of course you do…naturally so…” Thankfully, the food came and she no longer had to continue a conversation that left her with a serious case of inadequacy. The food was piping hot and rich with exotic flavors, biryani rice with stripped chicken and plenty seasonings that made her feel as if she was transported to bustling and alive, India, entranced her like nothing else. Before she realized she was moaning over her plate, it was the sound of Damien clearing his throat that knocked her out of her reverie.

Over his curried fish and hot roti and basmati rice, he stared at her with a hungry look. Maybe the fish wasn’t to his likening? She raised an eyebrow.

He raised one back.

“What?”

“That rice must be good,”

“It’s intensely, amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve never eaten biryani rice that tasted this good in my life! This place deserves those outrageous prices.”

“If that’s how you sound eating food I can only imagine what you’ll so–”

“How are you guys enjoying the meal?” interrupted a short, petite East Indian woman with a blue sari on and thick black hair braided and displayed on her small chest. “We were so delighted to have the son of Gotham’s most prestigious dining here,”

“And if you want to keep him dining here you’ll scurry along and allow him to finish his date.”

Logan chocked on her rice and patted her collarbone. “I-I’m so sorry, he didn’t mean to be so –”

The woman blushed and muttered rapidly. “I apologize for interrupting your meal,” The woman ran off without looking behind.

“Did you have to be so rude, Damien?” she admonished. “She was just being nice, oh god, what if she spits in our food or something? You know it’s a real shitty idea to be rude to the people handling your food, rich boy!”

“Tf,” he said. “She would not dare it.”

“You are so sure of yourself, kid.”

He furrowed his brows and leaned over the table. His board figure, intimidating, imposing and something about that made her skin warm. “You’re a year older than me,”

“So?” she narrowed her eyes. “Kid.” She challenged.

He chuckled and his eyes darkened. “I can gladly show you how much of a kid I am,”

Logan gulped and smiled nervously. “Whatever dude,”

Damien simply smirked.

 

For the next three weeks straight, almost every day unfailingly, Damien Wayne had found a way to drag her off to lunch – never the diner, however, he made it his duty for her to try other vegetarian meals and as he had so gracefully put it. “ _Not pollute her body with more lumps of grease and fat. Then die young_.” She realized from their twenty-one day friendship, that he had a way with words. Heck, the dude was an asshole. But then, she’d known that already – hadn’t she? Anyway, it was nice to have company because Elyria had busied herself with her boyfriend and rarely had time for her. Red had yet to return, but they messaged every day and they’d even video called a few times. Of course, only he called her – always from some weird unnamed ID that disappeared off of the web when she tried to find it.

Then, one afternoon, when she was locking up the pet store, Logan saw an unfamiliar motorbike park and a male figure dressed in red and black dismounting it, heading for the store. She rolled her eyes. It was too hot of a damn July for her to deal with any asshole that came too late to buy his damned pet a damn chew toy.

Biting her lip, she stuck the keys into her front shorts pocket. “The store’s closed, come back tomorrow at eight.” She snapped with a grumble. The eggplant risotto that Damien had insisted she’d eaten hadn’t been enough – those damn fancy restaurant and their minute serving size.

“Well, that’s a crying shame but I don’t have a pet.” Teased the man, Logan turned around to see Red, his dark hair shaggy and looking every bit of a GQ model as he had twenty odd days ago – his skin tanned from LA and his posture more relaxed. He looked good, all posed up against the beautiful machine.

“Red!” she screamed, jumping into his arms, her arm slinging around his neck as her body barreled into him. “I’ve missed you,” she gushed, burying her head into his neck. “I’ve got so much to tell you, I’ve been eating vegetarian, I made a friend, my acne has all but disappeared…” she rambled excitedly.

He chuckled and hugged her back tightly, before letting go. His blue eyes stared deeply into her brown ones and she felt a surge run straight from her fingertips to everywhere else. “Sounds exciting,” he admitted, before leaning his taller frame down. “But there’s something I’ve waited twenty-two days to do.” She opened her mouth to question but before she could blink, Red swooped down and gave her a deep kiss that made her head swing.

He held her chin with one hand the other pulled her close, resting at the small of her back. And that only thing that ran through her mind as his body pressed to her own was that for someone with lips so soft, his entire body felt so damn hard – in a wonderfully carnal way of course.

|IIIIII|

 

Damien was not shocked when he saw Tim dragging himself home, covered with hickeys and lips swollen. He didn’t feel jealous, per say, he felt left out. Timothy was his, in his own right – he cared for him, fucked him, bantered with him and had dynamics of relationship should. To him, anyway, Logan on the other hand was similar to his friendship with Colin – as there was a sort of normalcy, expect he didn’t want to have sex with Colin, he wanted to have sex with Logan in all ways defined by the Kamasutra and more. However, he wanted to do this with Tim. He wanted the both of them and he was sure Tim did too – but Timothy was such a stiff, polygamy would not be something he’d jump to, it would take him time but if the raging hard on he was currently sporting was any indication, he was definitely not in the waiting mood.

He remembered the morning before Tim left, how they’d argued when he suggested it. He was under the impression that Logan was too vanilla and innocent for the both of them. Damien knew otherwise. Damien snorted, remembering what Timothy had said to him about the way she tasted – her lips were like raw cane sugar, pure, sweet and addictive. He deserved that, he wanted that and it was obvious that on some level, Logan wanted him. Why couldn’t they indulge? What could be so wrong? It wasn’t like it was just sex, he cared for both – he could possibly care for Logan as much as he did for Timothy, he could have her completely.

“I know what you’re thinking, brat,”

Damien smirked, not turning from the window he stood in front of, his hands behind his back. “And do tell me what you assume I am thinking about, Timothy?”

“Logan.”

He rolled his shoulders. “She’s a wonderful, woman, Drake.”

“She’s too good, Damien.”

“Too good for _me_?”

“Too good for the both of us,”

“Yet you come home covered with her marks and coated in her fragrance,” he turned around – watching Timothy with a careful gaze. “Not one for sharing?”

“No.” he said firmly. “And frankly, she doesn’t seem like the type – Logan’s a virgin for crying out loud!”

“Then she’ll be ours completely when she gives us it,” Damien should have guessed that Tim would hit him – he should have dodged if he wasn’t so damn horny, but the kick hit him flat on his back.

“You need to take your head out of your ass, brat.” He punctuated with a punch. “Leave Logan alone,”

Not one to be taken advantage of, he socked Tim in the jaw and kneed him in the stomach. “Logan has a mind of her own,” he said. “And she’ll never be just enough – she’s too much, Tim. You know that, she deserve both of us. She needs both of us to balance her.”

“Since when are you a fucking Logan specialist?” Tim pointed dodging a cuff. 

“Since we’ve spoken seen each other every day since you’ve been in San Francisco,” he stated, swiping his foot across Tim’s legs, knocking him down. “I deserve her too, Drake.”

For a while, they stopped moving and stayed silent and still. Nothing but the haunting echo of the night around them, the silence ended when Tim got off the floor and stared at Damien. Blue eyes boring into green, there was an unspoken tension. “We’d share her and she’d share us.” Damien continued. “She’s the perfect third for us, Tim, we’d be a perfect triad. You, the level-headed and calm one, and I, impulsive, and action oriented – but the thing is, we’re both sides of the same coin; we both belong to the darkness. Logan’s the fucking light, she’s the god damn sun, she’s everything good and we deserve her for all this.”

Tim continued to stare for a while, his mouth opening and closing. It sounded too good to be true. “If, she agrees…”

“When,”

“If – this is a whole new ball game, brat, we have to take our time with her, _Logan_.”

“I can hardly wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN! DUN!  
> Those graphic sex scenes I promised in the tags are coming soon btw! In another chapter or three, but soon!  
> Pleaseee comment, the last one had like none and I was wondering if it made any sense – so please tell me if this does.   
> For those of who are deciding what to major in this coming fall, I beg you – DON’T FUCKING DO ENGLISH, DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT – ABORT, FUCKERS, ABORT!


	8. Weird Day (C O N F E S S I O N S)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see how fast I update when you comment?

Logan’s day was going very, very weird.

Firstly, Red and Damian had both messaged her instantaneously, at exactly 7:45 AM, when she’d just turned the key to open the store.  

_I want to see you for lunch._

That was the message they had both sent, blunt and in bold. It beamed in bright white and blue on her phone. She furrowed her brows; she’d gone to lunch with Damien for every day almost a month straight – it had become a habit. However, she hadn’t seen Tim in such a long time and she wanted to see more of him. Logan blushed. Especially after their heated make-out session six days ago, and every day after that, that left her with love bites along her neck and on her stomach. (Red was a very busy man with his lips and teeth.) Closing her phone, she decided that maybe she wouldn’t reply right away – it was Wednesday anyway and the crowd wouldn’t be overbearing so she’d get the chance to look at that around mid-morning.

Anyway, that was the first odd thing but sadly not the last, the second was the fact that at 8: 30 AM two delivery guys dropped off bouquets of her favorite flowers. She hadn’t even known they grew in Gotham; one was an array of yellow and red hibiscus flowers with white carnations. The second one threw her for a loop – no one, absolutely no one knew about her about her love for those flowers. Black poui flowers. She grinned at them, before setting them inside a container filled with water. Side by side, she’d fingered them and intermingled. The three did well together, perfect even.

“Well, it looks like little Logan has an admirer.” Teased Mr. Crane from above his glasses, emulating a laugh as she pushed her own above her nose – it would appear she did.

“These are some nice flowers too,” commented Josie, a new employee, her eyes roaming over them green with envy much like her electric hair. “That company is expensive,”

Logan stiffened. “Yup,”

“Good job,” she complimented before heading off into the toy section. Logan all but puked. In her short stay at Pet Paradise; Josie never had anything short of sass and snark to say to her.

The forth weird thing to occur was that they had a huge crowd prior to lunch; Logan was busy assisting customers at the front the entire morning, on her feet so often that it felt bruised and swollen. Her ankles cried out and so did her back, god – when would she get her damn break! She couldn’t even check her phone which vibrated and binged in her back pocket. Quickly the rush came to an end and so had her lunch break – Mr. Crane had been so kind to even give her an early break at 2: 00 PM.

When she checked her phone, the battery was dead so she couldn’t even message Red or Damien. She cursed, anyhow, there was always when she got home, she could charge her phone and get onto to them.

After she’d changed out of work shirt and into a thin weather appropriate sundress, she waved the remaining employees off and exited from the back door – tossing the keys to Jose as she left. “Remember to lock up with Josie, right Jose!” she called as she exited and walked up the alley. Too busy fiddling with her bag strap she hadn’t noticed the towering figures at the head of the alley – colliding into one.

Logan cursed as she almost slipped onto her ass but calloused hands prevented her from her fall. Fixing her glasses she grinned up at the sight. “Red!” she said with a grin. “What’re you doing here?”

“You forgot about lunch,” he told her resting his palms on her hips, fingers gripping the spanning flesh. Logan bit her tongue to ignore the thrill a touch did to her – sue her, her skin was sensitive. “We figured your phone died,”

“Yeah, it did, I had a crazy day at work,” she lamented, placing her hands on his chest. “You could not be– wait, _We_?”

“Hello, Logan.” Grumbled Damien behind, she twisted from Red’s grasp and to find him leaning against the hood of a very expensive looking black car.

She furrowed her brows, giving distance between herself and Red. Her eyes bounced across the attractive duo – what the fuck was going on? “You two know each other?”

“Intimately,”

“Yes,”

The two answered in simultaneously, different and telling. She kissed her teeth. “What the hell is this, Damien?”

“Red,” he said pointedly, gazing at the mentioned male with darkened green eyes. “…and I are acquaintances. We became aware of your mutual friendship and decided to make our respective twosomes, a threesome.” The way the word, _threesome_ , rolled off of his tongue felt as if it had darker, sensual connotations and it made her jump backwards – away from them both. “After all, we can all be _friends_ , can’t we?”

“How do you know him?” She wanted to know if she knew him in spandex and in civilian clothes – then again, he had to or else why did he call him Red. Oh, lord, her head was spinning. She needed space because something was utterly wrong about the whole set up. There was a lie somewhere.

“Like I said we are old acquaintances,” stressed Damien.

She rolled her eyes. “Bull-fucking-shit,” she turned to Red, poking a finger to his firm chest. “You’ve never lied to me before, Red, tell me how you know each other,” she demanded.

“Logan,”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Red, I swear to God, if you lie to me…”

“It’s complicated,” Red said, reaching to touch her chin – his fingers traced down to the swell of her bosom. “We’re close,”

She folded her arms, ignoring the tingles his touch ignited. “In what sense?”

“We’re adopted brothers who enjoy each other’s company in a pure, lascivious sense.” Said Damien, in true, crass language looking quite smug – she dug her nails into her flesh.

“Red,” she said lowly. “…Damien isn’t one for lying, is he?”

“It’s a bit more than that,” Red stressed.

“Look,” she started, hand in the air. “…I totally got why you don’t tell me your real name, it’s whatever, Red but I really don’t get what in god’s name is happening here – bringing your weirdly incestuous –”

“We’re not related,” Damien aptly pointed out.

“…lover, who I just happen to be friends with here to see me after I thought…I thought, we were something…we were a possibility…this is so _off_ ,” she concluded, taking a breath.

“We are a possibility,” Red pointed out, holding her hand – tightly – as if he was afraid she’d run away. “All three of us,” Damien whispered in her ear.

At this point, of course, is when she blacked out.

 

 

When she woke up, her back was pressed against very soft, very expensive leather and her head was on a harsh, hard pillow. She nuzzled at first, as if it were her bed, trying to get a spot to sleep on. Her hand hit out only to be captured. This was when her eyes sprung open.

“You were out for a while there,” commented Damien from the driver’s side.

She cursed. “I want to go home, now, Damien.”

“Not before you hear us out, Logan,” Red commented from above her she twisted her head so fast it burned, it was Red’s lap she’d made her headrest and the expensive leather had to be the inside of the posh black car she’d seen Damien lean against.

“I think I heard enough,” she bit out, still not rising from his lap. “You and your _brother_ want a cute little third to your sick threesome and let me tell you, birdbrain and rich boy, I am not gonna be some beck and call girl, that’s not who I am!”

The car took a sharp halt, parking – illegally – in the middle of Charles Street, a mile off from Barnes Avenue. In a swift motion, Damien had swung the passenger door open and scooped her into his arms – holding her to his face. “Let me tell you something, _sugarlips_ , and I’ll speak extremely slow – I do not intend for you to be a simple beck and call girl, I intend for you to be ours and ours alone. I intend to fuck you, yes, in every possible form a man or two men can fuck a woman. I intend to touch and feel every bit of goodness you positively reek of and take it for my own sanity; I intend to be completely selfish with you and _Red_. So don’t let whatever is going through your head block this, block us from everything we can possibly because you won’t only hurt yourself, you’ll hurt us and I know you care. Don’t even pretend that you don’t but I would never force you but you will not hurl such insults at my beloved or me again, because no matter how much I want you and care about you – I’ve had him much, much longer.”

Logan blinked rapidly, processing the speech. “Okay,”

“We should take this elsewhere,” Red interrupted and when no one moved. “Now, Damien.”

The rest of the ride was silent, until they parked in front of the apartment building. Logan was still processing everything Damien had told her and what her mind, heart and libido told her. They sat for a while, embracing the thick, heavy silence that was so palpable she was sure she could stick her tongue out and taste it. She reached to the door and opened it slowly, stepping out when Red placed a hand to her arm.

Logan looked at him with wide, expressive eyes. “My name is Tim Drake,” he said, releasing himself from the lone secret between them. “This could work, Logan – if you only tried.”

Not trusting herself to speak Logan merely pressed her lip to his forehead and scurried off into the apartment building, not waiting to see the car drive off.

 

 

Later that night, as Logan sat on the floor of the living room, with her head in her hand and staring blankly at the television – she wondered, would it be so crazy? No, of course it was – it was an insane and wackjob idea to have both of them at the same time. It felt so utterly selfish of her. To have such wonderful, total things to herself. It was a glorious dream, to have two men looking like them, who wanted her. It was like the plot of a bad fan fiction. Deep down, well, perhaps, not that deep down, she wanted it. She wanted to try out a relationship with the both of them. Honestly, things had never felt so good for her in Gotham until she met R- _Tim_ everything just kind of made sense and even Damien, with his asshole ways had a way of sparking something inside her the way Tim eased her soul. “It’s still a ridiculous notion,”

“What’s a ridiculous notion?”

Logan screeched, placing a hand over her heart. “What the hell, Jamar?!”

He simply smiled and took a seat beside her, taking her macaroni and cheese into his hand and scooping a spoonful. “What’s a ridiculous notion?”

Narrowing her eyes, she snatched her bowl back and licked her steamy food. “Nothing,”

“Ain’t sound like nothing,”

“Well it is,” She stubbornly insisted. “Why are you here?”

“I live here, Bug,” He stated picking up the remote she’d discarded.

“Why are you bothering, me?” she specified.

“You look like you need it,”

“I don’t so _get_.”

“Snappy.”

“Fuck you,”

“Incestuous,”

“We’re not even related! But _ew_!”

“C’mon,” he bumped his larger shoulder to her own, looking into her eyes with concern and worry. “What’s bugging you, Bug?”

She sighed, rubbing her face. “Fine, it’s, well…have you ever wanted something – like really wanted something to the point where it felt like a need? But you knew there was no way in hell any sane person would think it’s a good idea but that doesn’t stop you from needing it.”

Jamar stared at her with a stony gaze. “Fuck what anyone else thinks,”

“We both know it’s easier to say that than it is,”

“Nah,” he said, waving the remote. “Does this something make you feel empty without it? Like the idea leave you hungry and empty?”

She hummed, thinking. “Yes.”

“Then that’s your answer.”

Logan cut her eyes. “Just like that?”

He winked. “Just like that,”

 

|IIIIIIII|

 

For the next week, Logan had not responded to any attempts of communication made by Tim or Damien – they’d even stopped after the fourth day of the passing week. She immersed herself into her menial job, helping her Aunt with the apartment building – she even spent some time at her other home. Anything to not think about Tim and Damien, but that didn’t seem to help. She saw them like flashes in her dreams, at every dark corner in her world. It wasn’t right, she decided, for them to have this sort of control over her subconscious, so she decided to mentally tell them a nice, tight fuck off.

“Logan!” called Mr. Crane from outside the supply room. Mr. Jeb Crane came tumbling through; he was a pale skinned man with long brown hair and always wore dirty clothes – style, or whatever. “We’re super packed today and I need you to get to uptown to drop some supplies off with Jose to Wayne Manor –”

“No can do, boss.”

“Don’t be so pouty, Josie is busy helping me here…” she rolled her eyes, the only thing Josie was doing was giving him regular blowjobs during the lunch break. “…plus it just a couple boxes of food this time, nothing much.”

“Mr. Crane, c’mon, I’ve been staying super late for the pass couple days and helping out, can’t I catch a break?”

“I’m sorry, Logan – but I can’t give you a break for doing your job.”

Knowing he was right, she shoved the clipboard into his boney chest and marched towards the alley. Jose Hernandez sat at the back of the truck with his lanky frame crouched over his phone – he was a tall, skinny fellow, with tattoos all over his neck and arms. Already a bit pissed off, she kissed her teeth and slammed into the driver’s side of the truck – when Jose looked to her in dismay she smiled sweetly at him. “I’m driving today – you’re going to be doing the heavy lifting, hombre.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, trudging his tired twenty-three year old body into the passenger side. He opened the glove box and pulled out a smaller clipboard than the one she had in the supply closet. “First stop is Blűdhaven animal shelter, and then uptown, Wayne Manor…” he read through the list. “…hey, didn’t you go to Wayne Manor on delivery a couple of weeks – Hey!” he shouted as Logan took a sharp jolt forward to join the main street traffic. They made the first drop off quickly, mainly of Jose running in and out, probably afraid to get jumped while she steamed in the car. It wasn’t fair. She had been successfully avoiding those two for almost an entire week and now she was being thrusted right back into their lair.

This time she didn’t even have to speak into an intercom or offer her employee ID, they drove right in and the old man from before was at the door waiting. Jose had fetched the goods out and made the old butler sign.

Logan was anxious. It was too close for her comfort to be here with the knowledge that they might be anywhere and she honestly didn’t know if she could stand a confrontation. Looking out the window, she spotted two familiar figures in one of the wide windows of the manor. It was Tim’s back; she was sure – the board shoulders and lean muscles made her shift in her seat. She guessed it was Damien who had his fingers in his shaggy, dark hair, his head nestled into Tim’s pale neck. It was a lover’s embrace and something in her made her want to be more than a voyeur in it. It dawned on her that maybe she was staring for too long because Damien’s head raised and she swore, she saw him smile and wink.

But of course, it couldn’t be.

Just to be safe, she slouched lower than necessary into the seat until Jose rejoined her and she safely and sanely drove away. Nothing could drive away the burning in her belly, unfortunately.


	9. I PUT A SPELL ON YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys. You know the drill, comment, tell what you like, what you don’t like, comments ARE REALLY REALLY NICE, they let the writer know they’re not doing shit. So, let me know.

“I told you we shouldn’t have done it,” Tim reminded as he lay beside Damien.

“Tf,” Damien waved off. “She’s ours.”

“Really?” Tim asked, running his fingers through his sweat drenched hair. “She certainly doesn’t feel like it,” He had not spoken to her in days, when last, since their meeting had he not spoken to her? The disconnect felt unnatural. “Maybe we pushed too hard.”

Damien sat up and rolled his bare shoulders, the expanse of tanned skin glowing with perfection as his muscles rippled. “Sometimes she needs an extra push,”

“She’s not a solider or a warrior,” Tim prompted. “She’s a girl,”

“Logan is so much more than a _girl_ ,” he pointed out fiercely. “You’d think you’d know that.”

Tim’s ears turned red at what Damien insinuated. “If she’s not cut out for it, I don’t see why we should force her.”

“We’re not forcing anything,” Damien insisted. “She wants us, just as much,”

“Of course, right?” Tim mocked, getting off of the floor of the training room. “Who wouldn’t want Damien Wayne?”

He sneered. “Exactly, _orphan_ – who wouldn’t want me especially when I drag you into the mix.”

“I was there before you even knew her name!”

“Yes, that is true but I’m here now and she can have me too.”

“You’re so damn, stubborn!” argued Tim, angrily.

“I want what I want and I usually get it,”

Tim rolled his eyes – a habit that wasn’t often displayed. “Damien this is not some fight against a villain or some assassin! This is a relationship with a girl, a healthy girl who wants love and passion – she wants a fucking romance, not to be conquered!”

Damien’s eyes darkened with fury, he jumped to his feet. “Don’t you come to me with your high emotional horse, what makes you think I can’t be that? Don’t act like I’m some emotionless block with nothing but sex on my mind Tim – you know it’s not like that.”

“Do I, Damien?”

The beeping of their respective watches silenced their conversation. Their lover’s quarrel would have to end for now because Gotham needs them.

 

|IIIIIIIII|

 

Logan opened her bedroom window and looked out at the suburbia prison. She sighed; it was nothing like Barnes Avenue which glowed of life from all corners. The population was more diverse as well. The gated suburbia community her father had forced them to live in was mostly filled with monotones and a few splotches of beige but Barnes had everyone. There were the Cuban immigrants, the West Indian ones, the local New Yorkers and everyone in between. It was a delightful multicultural melting pot that reminded her of home. Longingly, she stared out at the row of eggshell colored houses and could not control the slight anger that ran through her body – she missed her real home. She missed the constant sunshine and the clean air. God, clean air, the first time she’d breathed New York air she almost collapsed on spot. Gotham City, New York – this whole new world was terrifying to a little South American girl.

But she damn sure made it work.

“Logan, dinner!” called up her step-mother, Carol. Logan kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for whatever attempts of family-life her step-mother was trying but she had to try anyway, she guessed; after all, her father was already pissed at her for whatever reason.

Logan shouted down a confirmation before trudging down the stairs. They were already at the dining table, Micah in his little booster seat – his small hands playing with his green peas, the same color as his large doe eyes, her father at the head, robust and domineering and Carol beside him, dishing out the mashed potato onto his plate.

“Good evening, all,” she greeted, drawling out the last word as she sat down beside her half-brother.

“Good evening, Logan,” her father grumbled.

“Hello, Logan,” Carol chimed as she came to her plate and dished out the appropriate portions before taking her seat. They bowed their heads for grace, a new family habit that Carol had insisted on, and said their prayers before diving into the meal.

If there was anything Logan wouldn’t admit out loud was that Carol was an exceptional cook. Honestly, who ever made the myth that white people can’t season had never tasted Carol’s food. She was as good or twice as good as any of the fancy restaurants Damien had taken her to. Her chewing ceased as his image danced across her mind. It felt so unnatural to not hear his snark or blunt remarks for so long. As his image left, Tim’s crept up, she kept picturing his back as she saw from the window at Wayne Manor – she remember the feel of his body to her own and the taste of his skin, mouth and lips. That’s what made her even hungrier – and it definitely wasn’t for food. 

“How’s the steak, Logan?” Carol asked as she sliced her own well done steak.

Clearing her throat and hoping the apple in her cheeks weren’t visible she gave her step-mother had a small smile. “It’s great,” she complimented, unconsciously.

Carol looked at her shocked for a moment, her eyes lit up as she glanced at Logan’s father who merely looked on with a raised brow. The meal continued with silence before interruption.

“Can I have more apple juice?” Micah grumbled.

Logan hummed, absentmindedly, collected the jug of juice and pouring some into his little cup. “Here you go, bud,” she finished her meal and denied desert. On her way out of the dining room, Carol stopped her, pulling her aside into the hallway.

Her blue eyes searched Logan’s expression. “Are you okay?” she implored. “You’ve been home for the past few days and you’ve even been; well, amicable…with me, even spent time with Micah,”

Logan furrowed her brows. Was it such a foreign idea for her to be nice to her step-mother and half-brother? She was just trying to go through the days; spending time helped them go by quicker when she wasn’t at work since Elyria was busy getting her guts knocked out. “I’m fine,” she said brusquely. “I’d like to go to my room now,”

Carol sighed and nodded. “Sure, sure, go ahead,”

Deep down, she knew she was being unfair but frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to be fair. Right now she just wanted to forget everything; she just wanted to disappear for a while. Stomping up to her room, she slammed her bedroom door shut and buried her face into her pillow and closed her eyes. When had her life become complicated?

Her phone buzzed with notifications, drawing her from her thoughts. It was a message from her chemistry partner, inviting her to a party. Logan sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes,

|IIIIIIIII|

Tim really hated fighting superpowered villains.

Normal, psychotic villains were bad enough but to top it off with super powers was beyond fucked up. It seemed as if there was no shortage of them, as if they crawled like roaches from the cracks and each one had a worst fucking name. Right now, he couldn’t remember the name of the villain they were fighting but his power certainly were memorable. At least the good thing about fighting a super villain was that he didn’t have to fight his boyfriend. Tim could positively _feel_ the rage radiating off of Damien. He admitted that he went too far, he should have never said what he’d said to Damien, implying he had no real emotion other than lost. The damn brat was so annoying though, with his hunger for Logan who obviously didn’t feel the same way.

It burned him not having to hear from her, but Tim was strong, however heartbreak pained more than a laser blast on sore skin. Was his heartbreaking from not hearing from her? Yes, it was, that was a fact. He’d learned to depend on her for balance in his hectic equation of life. The good thing was there was no tabloids with his real name and Robin connected so that meant she was still what he thought she was, _good_.

“Pay attention, orphan,” snapped Robin in his earpiece, Tim almost kissed his teeth but instead threw an exploding device at one of the minions.

“I have been, brat,” he growled back.

Robin, _Damien_ , snorted. “I beg to differ,”

“Are you trying to say something, _Robin_?”

“Can’t you figure it out, _Red_?”

“There has to be something to figure out first – _Robin_. Sometimes things are black and white,” he grumbled, before jumping down from his perch and between two minions of and beating them with his staff. They were the average goons, he was sure he had caught them before robbing some poor old lady before.

“Black and white are just shades,” mocked Robin in his ear.

“The two of you will be shades of blue if you don’t get your head in the game with Spellcaster,” Batman chided, in their ears, he wasn’t on patrol tonight – a rare occasion because of a healing injury.

Their response was silence.

“I found Spellcaster,” said Robin. “He’s out by the docks, the warehouse was a distraction.” He deduced. “Will proceed,”

“Proceed with caution, Robin,” warned Batman. “Remember, he’s not as weak as Spellbinder… _his_ tricks are simple hypnosis, Spellcaster works with real magic.”

“Understood,” they said in unison.

“Approaching your spot now, Robin,” Tim informed as he slithered from the warehouse, keeping an eye on Spellcaster and Damien’s spot.

“Don’t bother, I won’t be there for very long,” Robin snarled.

Before the warning of, don’t do anything rash, is explicitly expressed, Robin had flung a batarang at Spellcaster’s hand – piercing the flesh. The batarang stuck out from his hand. It was a smart move, from the intel they’d gathered, Spellcaster used his hands to cast his spells.  Red hung back, watching Damien for a while – too many cooks spoiling the broth and all that.

Spellcaster had let out a curse at Damien’s attack, his other hand rose in a flurry of quick gestures. Damien was paralyzed.

 _Fuck_.

Red cursed, dropping from his proverbial perch and into to action – he flung a shocking device at Spellcaster, landing on the back of his neck and sending him flat on his back. In preparation for this event, Batman had created paralysis syringes. Pulling one from his utility belt, he lunges a needle into Spellcaster’s clavicle.  His magic is suspended; he knows this because he hears Damien drop to the ground with a thud. “Spellcaster has been immobilized.” He chirped, finger on his comm as he spoke. He heard Damien’s heavy footsteps behind him, and a slight cough. He dropped to his knees and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his cloak, slamming them onto Spellcaster’s bony wrists. He recognized the markings as incantations; it must be the cuffs that Zatana had given Batman for this particular case of crazy.

“I found something,” Robin announced in his modulated voice, he held up a map with markings. “I think Spellcaster had some sort of charm he’d set to go off,” his gloved finger pointed on the map. “Right here,”

“Smart boys, but you’ll all soon be gone boys! Haha,” cackled Spellcaster. “Magicless humans are no good against my charms,” he shook his wrists. “And even your fancy bracelets won’t stop my charm…dull it, yes but it will still affect who is drawn to it,”

“We need to get to Valley City, _now_.”

|IIIIIIIII|

Logan had no idea what she was doing.

She’d gotten dolled up and was currently in the midst of a house party, reeking of alcohol and holding a cup of vodka. Her fifth for the evening, the wedge heels she wore made her steps stagger. After finding herself on the couch beside a passed out freshman and was cradling a bottle of beer like a babe, Logan decided that maybe sneaking out wasn’t the brightest idea. She was already there, anyway, she hadn’t thought about anything but music and alcohol – she was enjoying herself.

She took her cellphone out of her purse and opened her camera app. Logan admired her handiwork, she looked damn good with her shimmery, dark eye-make-up with an extravagant wing and black matte lipstick that made her look alluring. Thank goodness for fixative spray! Otherwise, in her trek from her bedroom window to Mike’s parent’s mansion in Valley City it was smudged.

A black haired male approached her; he had blue eyes and an easy smile. “Want to dance?” he questioned, his hand – large, pale and outstretched.

She bit her lip and took it, squealing as he pulled her to her legs and held her close. He smelt nice, familiar like a dream. “C’mon,” he cajoled, in a whisper she managed to hear over the loud music.

Logan nodded, following him with her eyes dazed and a smile on her face. He was so handsome, his specific features weren’t clear but she could tell there was something just…ethereal about him. He touched her waist then her hips, moving to the funky beat of the song.

She closed her eyes, still smiling as she let him guide her body with ease.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he murmured.

“ _Yes_ ,”

Another pair of hands ghosted across her skin, running over her braless breast. Her dress hadn’t called for a bra, possessing a built-in one despite its thinness. It was a spaghetti strap mid-thigh dress, red like blood. “We can make this last forever,” two voices harmonized.

“But first you’ll have to follow us,” her eyes opened instantly. She saw that there were two men, one pale and blue eyed the other possessed a tanned complexion and verdant eyes that peered into her soul. They beckoned and she followed.

Logan walked mindlessly, following them out to the backyard. They smiled at her, with soft, easy grins. Their arms encased her and they spoke in soft whispers. She couldn’t really hear what they were saying but it sounded so, so nice. She forgot everything except for the sound of their voice.

She barely felt her skin prick, ever so slightly; the feel of a fresh wound jolted her. “W-What are you doing?”

They laughed. “Making this last _forever_ ,”

The tanned one with eyes that reached inside her leaned close. “No one will judge you here,” he touched her warm skin, cool feel jolting her. “Trust us, _sugarlips_ ,”

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, so softly, trying not to relish the coolness of being so close to him.

“Don’t be like that, Logan,” his voice mocked with an au fait snarl.

“You can trust us,” whispered a calming echo.

She shook her head weakly, shaking between the two cold bodies. “ _No_ ,” was all she could get out.

“Too late, Lo –” The duo was cut off by a horrendous screeching sound. They hollered. Their very bodies seemed to shimmer out of existence. However, Logan was too busy clutching her ears and hollering agonizingly to pay attention. Where was that horrible sound coming from? It was so loud and rumbled like thunder in the air. Logan collapsed onto her knees into the damp earth. She didn’t even care about getting mud onto her suede wedge.

All she could remember seeing was red and black as she blacked out.

 

 

Logan arched her back and stretched her hands out to the sky. Her body felt sore for some reason and her head was banging. She moved around her bed, nuzzling beneath her soft sheet. Vaguely, she remembered the events of the night before and coming home wasn’t one of them. She remembered getting dressed and going out, having a few drinks and dancing with a grey eyed beauty and then – oh fuck…

Her eyes shoot open alert as she eyed her environment. She definitely wasn’t home. Logan was in a room larger than her own, lacking all the personal paraphilia but it was posh at least, way more than whatever she could afford.

Swinging her legs over the bed, her feet stung as they hit the hardwood floor. She bit her lip to keep silent and carefully crept to the open bathroom door. After urinating, she washed her hands and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Logan grimaced. The make-up from the night before had dried and worn on her face but that wasn’t the disturbing part, it was the fact that she wasn’t wearing her party clothes but instead a clean white shirt that belonged to a male and a pair of sweatpants. Sighing, she scrubbed her face, brushed her hair as much as she could with the product in the bathroom and prepared to face the awkward conversation that would follow if her hunch as to whom her _savior_ was had been correct.

Exiting the bathroom she sighed, realizing she was right.

“Good morning, Red.”

He smiled. “Good morning, Logan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys. You know the drill, comment, tell what you like, what you don’t like, comments ARE REALLY REALLY NICE, they let the writer know they’re not doing shit. So, let me know.


	10. STORMY WEATHER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHEAD! A snippet of what is to come....

Rain was not common in the summer but when it came, it was relished.

Loud and pouring, it slapped against the rooftop of the house. Echoing through the empty house, she closed her eyes and snuggled close to her bed. The warmth tingled her skin and she could not think of crawling from beneath her sanctuary anytime soon. Their area was experiencing a temporary blackout as a result of the storm. However, she felt no distress as she enjoyed the silence of the room. The lack of shouts and electrical noise made it calming.

However, in the silence, she heard the tired sound of the window being opened. “ _Logan_ ,” a voice crooned.

She stretched from beneath the sheet and reached for her glasses. Placing them on her face, the vision of the figure cleared and she smiled. “Hello, _stranger_ ,”

“I heard about the blackout and was in the area,” he said, his smile illuminated by the candles she’d lit, as he walked towards her bed. “Decided to pop in,”

“How kind of you,”

He chuckled, taking a seat beside her, his uniform dampening her sheet. He pressed cold lips to her cheeks, forehead and nose. “I’ve missed you,”

She crinkled her nose. “It’s only been two days since I saw you,”

“Two days too long,” he said, changing out his uniform – she admired his figure, peeling off his spandex armor into a vest and foot longer boxers before slipping into the cover overs besides her. His body was surprisingly warm, enveloping her shivering body more than the sheet. “You’re freezing,”

“Really? I’d never guessed you were trained by the world’s greatest detective,”

“You and that _mouth_ ,” he teased. “One day I’m going to stuff it with –”

“Don’t you dare!”

“…some _humus_ ,”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “ _Humus,_ right _._ ”

 Changing the subject, he started. “It’s not even that cold,” he rubbed his hands up and down her body to create warmth. “How do survive during winter and fall?”

She clicked her tongue and ran her finger over one of his hands that had paused by her bare skin. “I bundle with lots of clothes, run my father’s heating bill up and try not to go out too often.”

He sighed, kissed her cheek. “Pathetic,”

|IIIIIIIIII|

 _Logan knew full well how attractive Red,_ Tim _, was. It was just that she hadn’t seen him for a while so to see him sitting on a bed, looking carelessly perfect with his flawless dark hair and sparkling blue eyes and lean, tight figure – it assaulted her and her libido. He seemed to know this and smiled at her, his lips spread in a positively delicious fashion. She cleared her throat folding her arms beneath her breasts, inadvertently pushing the perky pair forward. “What happened last night?”_

_“Supervillian mischief.” He stated, playing with the rumpled sheet._

_“At a house party?” she asked cynically._

_He shrugged. “Magic stuff,” he supplied._

_She shivered, not moving from her spot, no wonder it had all felt so, weird. “That’s comforting,”_

_“Don’t worry, I had a friend come over and check you over to make sure none of the charm left any residual effect. You’re all good.” He reassured._

_“Great,”_

_“Yeah,”_

_Silence filled their space and grew thick. Logan swallowed thickly. She was tired of this, she missed him, hell, and she even missed Damien. They were mature enough to accept each other as friends, weren’t they? “What was the charm supposed to do?”_

_Tim opened his mouth and closed it. As if contemplating if she was worthy of hearing it – damn it! She hated those damn secrets. “It was supposed to reveal your darkest desire in order to give into the villain’s power, he feeds on this by taking pieces of your soul in the process of you relishing in your desire. What was yours, Logan?”_

_She almost squealed in surprise with she heard Damien’s voice. As she had not even heard the door opening, the damned boy moved like a ninja. With her hand over her heart, she dared not to recall what her desire was especially when it was currently burning in the pit of her stomach because of being around them. “Interesting,” she murmured trying not to ogle Damien in his skin tight jeans and close fitting grey v-neck. “I-I need to get home,”_

_“Your father’s not even in town, Logan,” Damien pointed out._

_“Yes, he is,” she lied, knowing her father left an hour before she snuck out. “I need to go, now,”_

_“Why do you keep running away from us, Logan?”_

_“Damien –”_

_“No, fuck you, Tim. I’ve waited too long.”_

_Licking her lips, she cut her eyes on him. “Morals,”_

_“Morality is a weak excuse,” He fired back._

_“Fuck off,” she barked._

_“I’d much rather fuck you,”_

_“Logan,” Tim started from behind her, she looked at him briefly. “Have you even given it any thought?”_

_Had she? Of course, how couldn’t she? They were sex personified and they cared about her – well, Tim did, she wasn’t so sure about Damien, so the combination was there. Would she let herself be selfish and have this? Would it kill her to try? Even for a while? Sighing, she went and sat on the bed._

_“Oh what the hell, what’s the worst that can happen?” she said, with a smile._

 

|IIIIIIIIII|

 

Logan had fallen asleep in his hold, relaxed and protected. She wiggled and hummed in delight. God, how did she sleep before? There couldn’t be anything better than right now, in his arms and breathing his scent. He pulled her closer when she moved, pressed her close to his hard, warm body. “ _Tim_ ,” she called.

He murmured against her back, kissing her skin.

She smiled and turned to face to him. He was tired. Resembling a cute raccoon – not that she’d ever tell him, her finger traced his dark circles around his eyes. Logan placed butterfly kisses about his face, and neck, stopping at his chest. She dragged her lips across his scars, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

“If you keep doing that I can’t promise utterly gentleman-like behavior,”

She gasped and jumped back, almost off the bed. “I thought you were sleeping!”

He smirked humorously. “Then maybe I should have pretended and see how far your kisses travel,”

Mortified she slapped his chest. “You are such a perv!”

“I’m a twenty-one year old man,” Tim said with laughter in his voice. “There’s only so much torment I can _stand_ ,”

She blinked at him in confusion. “ _Torment_?”

“You really have no idea?” he asked in awe, grabbing her elbow and pulling her on top of him. He lay beneath her, his black vest like paint on his skin, dark hair still a bit damp from the rain and blue eyes brighter than any candle she could ever hope to light. “You’re positively seething of lascivious dreams,” he insisted, finger ghosting over her skin. “Being near you like this,” she smelt his musky body other and licked her lips. “Is proof of excellent self-control on my part,”

She bit her lip, blushing hard; her pink tongue darted outside her mouth for a moment as she stared at him. The lights flickered on in that moment - she found an escape.  “I think I’ll go make us something to eat,” Logan announced, crawling off of him, now painfully aware of her pajama bottoms and sports bra wear. “Let me make you some food,” she teased, ignoring the fire in her stomach he ignited with a few words. She made him lose control? Big, bad, Red Robin? She almost scoffed. Nevertheless, the idea made her feel powerful.

After turning all the lights on in the house, she led him to the kitchen. Logan was thankful her father was gone to a conventional in New Orleans for the week and Carol had taken Micah with her to visit family in Montana or some redneck state so, she was left alone for the week. How would she explain to them her cooking for a strange man in his underwear? She dared not to think.

Taking out her ingredients, she took the chicken breasts from the freezer and put them in the sink. Even with the blackout, they weren’t completely thawed out. Next she took out a packet of brown rice, shallot, onions, ginger powder, seasoning salt and soy sauce. Never before was she happy for Carol’s anal retentive behavior when it comes to food, as she always pre-chopped seasoning. In swift fashion, she made classic chicken fried rice like the one she grew up eating. When it was time for her to dish their food out, the doorbell rang.

Tim got up to get it first but she stopped him. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I don’t need these nosey people to be wondering why a strange man in his underwear opened my father’s door. I’ll get it.”

He shook his head, face stern. “I’ll be right behind you then,”

Seeing this was not an argument she’d win, she simply shook her head and went to open the door. To her surprise, her friend – her other boyfriend, was standing there beneath a large black umbrella. He leered down at her appreciatively. “Here I thought I was being a dutiful boyfriend to my partners thinking they’d missed me in the blackout – apparently I was wrong,”

“Shut up, Damien.” His _partners_ , said in unison.

“I see Drake’s lack of manners have rubbed off on you.” He chortled, letting himself in and locking the door behind him. As if it was his home. The nerve of that boy! “Something smells good. I know it wasn’t Tim who cooked…”

“Fuck you, Damien.”

“…so it had to be Logan.” Shaking her head at their banter, she simply ignored them and went into the kitchen. After taking out an extra plate and filling all three, she placed them on the tray and entered the dining room where they’d stopped following her. If she didn’t have a good grip on the tray, she would have dropped it at the sight. On her dining room table, Tim had Damien seated and was stroking his thick, long, veiny penis as he made out with him. Their lips were messed together but she occasionally saw their tongues dart out and in the other mouth. Tim’s large hand gripped it and slid up and down, tightly, working the penis like a pro. The mushroom tip glistened. Damien was muttered dirty things that made her bit her lip to suppress a groan.

“I need you to cum now, _brat_ ,” Tim pressured between kissing.

Voyeurism becoming too little, she set the tray down on a desk that was besides the opening of the dining room, approaching them. She heard Damien grunt when Tim moved to kiss his neck. His verdant eyes stared at her – beckoning her to come closer. “I think our little voyeur would like to join the show,”

In an instant, she saw the muscles in Tim’s back stiffen before his grip was lost from Damien’s penis and he turned to face her. They made quite a sight. Tim with her eyes full of carnal emotion, and hair messy, she had never seen him so disheveled. It made her nipples harden. Damien’s lips were covered with saliva, glistening from kisses and his cock, thick, long, hard and intimidating. Her vagina pulsed in wet hunger. “Come here, Logan,” Tim beckoned, offering a hand. “Try it,” She’d never done anything like that before, she’d seen them done in porn but never tried it. Tim wrapped her hands around the members, the wide organ hot and alive beneath her touch. Starting from the base, she pulled to the tip, firm but not tight. Up and down they went.

“Look at his face, Logan,” Tim whispered in her ear. Her eyes darted upwards; Damien’s usually composed face was contorted in pleasure. His brows were furrowed; lips parted as he moaned her name, so soft and light. He made it airy and dirty. From the sounds he made, alone, the crouch of her underwear was soaked with desire. Under Tim’s guidance, her movement sped up. One hand was enough to guide her smaller ones with, his other, unoccupied one, moved to cup her breast. Stimulating her nipple as she worked Damien’s cock, not to leave Tim out, Damien moved behind her to jerk Tim off – the tip of his desire brushing against her pajama pants. As Damien moved up his tempo, Tim did his tweaking of her nipple. They were a trio of erotic energy. A sparking, exploding mass of tantric magic.

She kept her eyes on Damien’s face, hands on his cock.

Damien kept his eyes on her and Tim, hand on Tim’s cock.

Tim kept his hand on her nipple and lips on her neck, moving his guiding hand from her own to her neglected vagina – cupping, massaging and fiddling with her.

They came together messily, Damien shooting onto her belly and pants, Tim on her back and pants and her in her underwear. Damien kissed her hungrily before Tim parted them to give her a kiss of his own. The only thing that ran through her mind was that – it had been _fun_.

“I think the food’s cold.”

 

|IIIIIIIIII|

 

_“We’re going to have to take it slow,” Tim told Damien as they watched Logan climb up back to her bedroom. It felt good to know she had come to peace with the both of them and accepted them. They parked their car a few houses down as she requested, but had not drove off as she demanded. Just because she was their girlfriend didn’t mean they’d be completely obedient to her._

_“Tf,” Damien scoffed. “Good luck with that.”_

_“I’m being serious,” Tim argued._

_“I know,” Damien looked at him, green eyes full of cynicism. “That’s what makes it_ adorable _.”_

_“Damien.”_

_“We both know, that now that she’s ours, there’s no way in hell we’re going to take anything slow. That girl might be innocent but we aren’t, she won’t be innocent for much longer.”_

_Tim frowned as he drove off. He hated when the brat was right and something told him he definitely was –_ fuck _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys. You know the drill, comment, tell what you like, what you don’t like, comments ARE REALLY REALLY NICE, they let the writer know they’re not doing shit. So, let me know.


	11. Cucumbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys! My semester is almost over and naturally, I’ve waited until now to do my entire semester’s work so that’s not good for updates. On the plus side, I’ve got another chapter almost finished! Well, 1/3 finished but that’s not the point! Anyway, I promised explicit sex and romance butttt angst will also be introduced. I’m plotting a lot of angst and pain to balance out romance and lust. Please leave your thoughts about this, comments help me to write more and ignore my deadlines.

 

“This film is absolutely ridiculous,” Damien ridiculed.

Logan rolled her eyes and made herself more comfortable, snuggling closer to Tim. “You don’t have to watch it you know, _rich_ _boy_ ,” she quipped, turning the volume higher just to irritate him. Damien scoffed from his perch where he sat – her father’s lazy boy which had the perfect view of the television in all its high definition glory. They had decided to stay with her over the week, not feeling right leaving her in the house alone.

Tim has his arm around her, his fingers ghosting over her arm – she doesn’t feel self-conscious about her fatty arms for once. His touch comforts and soothes as well as stirs something deep within. “It might not be my favorite either,” he admits, softly, kissing Logan’s head. “But it’s hers so I don’t mind,”

Damien scoffed, crossing his arms. “Kiss up,”

Logan giggled and kissed Tim, briefly, licking his lower lip before going deeper. He responded by moving his hand to a less chaste place, the small of her back above the curve of her ass before sneaking beneath the large t-shit she wore to grasp a cheek. She gasped, opening her mouth to his tongue which took no prisoners in his invasion. He takes his time with her, lips moving against lips in a fleshy tango. His tongue tastes of her peppermint toothpaste and a hint of the chocolate ice cream they’d been eating. Tim is some sort of expert with his tongue she thinks he’s close to godliness. His hands are greedy, possessive things, which fondle and massage her thighs, ass and breasts as he kisses her. Her head is spinning from all the exciting stimulation.

“Now this is much better than that horrible film,” Damien announced, cutting through their erotic fog like a shuriken. “Rise up her shirt and put her on your lap,” he commanded.

Tim nipped her lower lip with his teeth for a moment, moving her quickly to his lap. Cold air slapped her buttocks, but was quickly warmed with a twin smack from Tim’s palms. She doesn’t have to see to know the cheeks shook from the impact. It stings but she finds delight in it, biting his tongue before kissing him some more. He takes her t-shirt off, resuming their kiss and his mauling of her body.

“You have lovely ass cheeks, Logan,” crooned Damien, voice like velvet brushing against her ear. She shivered in Tim’s hold. “I wonder how it’d feel…me running my tongue across –” The sound of the doorbell halts their primal, lusty embrace. Tim doesn’t stop his assault and she hears Damien’s clothing being shed. Her instinct wants to ignore the doorbell but her common sense strikes like a hot iron rod. “I have to get the door,” she murmurs when Tim relinquishes her lips for the swell of her breasts. Licking slowly, like a cat relishing the taste of rich, milky cream. She can’t even recall when her shirt was discarded. Damien hums in her ear before biting the cartilage. That causes a yell to erupt from her, which falls into a moan when he captures her swollen lips. The sweet taste of her lips, Tim’s tongue and wanton yearning all rolled into one.

The doorbell rings again when Tim captures one of her nipples in her mouth, suckling like a new born babe – there was no milk but he kept sucking, _god_ , she groaned into her kiss with Damien.

She knows that there was no way anytime soon that Damien would stop kissing her for her to speak, for her to get the damn door! Teeth crashed down on his tongue, it drew blood – his liquid life dripping into her mouth. He kissed harder before pulling out his tongue, moving his lips only to pepper her with bloody kisses and licks. Her chin and lips were probably painted with darts of red. His green eyes sparkled, as if in a play. “I will get the door,”

“No!” she managed weakly; Tim removed his lips from her chest with a wet _pop_. Scrambling off of his lap, she tugged on her t-shirt – well, Tim’s t-shirt, and tied her hair with a pony. A robe Carol had always kept about was thrown over her and tied tightly. Squinting, she wiped her lips and chin quickly with one of the baby wipes in the foyer table draws, stuffing it in the pocket. She hoped she did not look as disheveled as she felt. Damn those boys!

 Tip toeing, she peeks through the peephole to see it’s one of her neighbors. Mrs. Perkins, an old conservative lady who still dyed her hair platinum blonde and wore gleaming, white pearls. Logan suppressed a groan before opening the door half-way.

“Good day, Mrs. Perkins,” she greeted. “What can I do for you, today?”

 The older woman passed her hand over her hair. “Good afternoon, Logan, dear.” She responded. “My husband and I,” Logan jumped at the feel of a hand on her ass. Apples rose to her cheeks but Mrs. Perkins didn’t seem to notice. “…saw a car parked out in front but we didn’t see Malcolm come out for the morning papers so we figured it was them. We’re wondering if you’re parents had maybe traded up and bought a new car or if they are aware of your overnight guests?” she questioned, contempt rolling in her blue eyes, Logan struggled to stay focused as the hand continued to grope her lecherously. 

“My parents know everything that goes on in their house, and for your information, the car belongs to a friend who was too drunk to drive home and I called her a taxi. Now, perhaps you should mind your own business and leave us alone, ma’am.” She slammed the door in the old woman’s sputtering face.

In a matter of seconds of closing the door she was spun around so fast she almost got whiplash. Damien’s eyes glowed as he wrapped her leg around his waist, grinding against her. “Now, who knew sugarlips had some sauce on her _tongue_.”

 

|IIIIIIIIIII|

Eventually, they both had to leave – Tim to go do _Red_ stuff and Damien to do, well, whatever it was Damien did, leaving her at home alone. She didn’t mind this, if anything, it gave her a chance to think because being around them was so intense and _loud_. Now, they weren’t playing grunge music and dancing at midnight but when they were around everything was cloudy and logic paid no part. Logan took her time to shower, washing her hair and setting it meticulously in curlers to dry overnight. She bemoaned that soon she would have to go to the saloon to have her hair relaxed as the new growth was becoming too much for her to handle.

 In the long mirror of her bedroom, she eyed the new marks across her body. Her breasts held several bite marks and red kissing bruises; her neck was covered in them as well as her stomach and thighs. She shivered. If this was what it was like before sex, she wondered how she’d look when they did start.

Logan may be a virgin but she was under no illusions of what her boys might expect. She knew they had no problem having sex with each other but soon, they’d want her to take part. A tingle ran down her core as she recalled the feel of their warm semen against her skin. Sticky. Thick. _Tantalizing_.

The seventeen year old licked her lips, tracing over her stomach where Damien’s essence had splattered over her. She giggled. It felt naughty to want to know its taste.

Shaking her head, she moisturized her skin then dressed in her usual home attire, a t-shirt and shorts. This time, from the pile of clothes the boys had left, she picked one of Damien’s that fit her looser than Tim’s. It was soft against her skin and breasts, comforting as she moved in it.  

Deciding to fix a chicken salad to eat, as she would have to partially dry her hair before she slept and god knows that took forever, she ventured to the kitchen. Singing to herself, she danced to the music instead her head as she withdrew ingredients from the fridge. She paused as she picked up a cucumber. It was long and about the width of Damien’s or Tim’s…um, package. Biting her lip, she eyed it. Would it hurt to practice?

She had wanted to try something for the boys for a while, especially Tim who taught her hands-on how to give a hand-job. Sticking her tongue out, she licked what she imagined could be the tip of the penis. Her tongue moved around the circumference, circling the cucumber. Then, like the girls she saw in a video once at school, she licked what would be the underside from the bottom to the end of the cucumber, slowly and carefully before popping the first inch of it in. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked the head softly, creating a mask of saliva before taking more.

The vibration of her phone distracted her. Picking it up but not letting the cucumber go, she checked the message.

**Damien: We might be late.**

Bobbing her head on the cucumber, she slid more down, sucking harder – making loud wet noises.

**Logan: I’ll make dinner. Salad!!!**

She pulled the cucumber back a little, and then pushed it further. Mimicking a thrusting penis. Saliva trickled down the corner of her mouth as she pushed the cucumber closer to her throat. Gagging, she pulled it out and set it on the counter.

Wiping her mouth, she cleared her throat and tried again, with a lip of her lips, she swallowed the cucumber and sucked. Bobbing her head as she sucked the vegetable, careful with her teeth – she couldn’t very well risk biting the real thing.

The warm vegetable glided down her throat as she suppressed her gag reflex, pushing it down her throat then back up before she puked. A trail of spit hung between the space of the cucumber and her mouth as she stretched it back from her mouth. Her mouth was getting tired of the vegetable, it grew sore.

Rinsing it off in the sink, she twisted her mouth and tossed the cucumber. It’d be a bit awkward to cook with it, so she might as well get a fresh one. She made a garden salad and warmed some garlic bread in the toaster oven – for once not craving meat.

Logan grimaced; it would seem that Damien was rubbing off on her because she was not the kind of girl to _not_ eat meat. Setting aside helpings for the boys, she rushed past the living room with a place and settled in the living room. Using her laptop, she logged into her Netflix account and nestled in her couch.

 _House of Cards_ would have to serve as entertainment until the real one came home.

|IIIIIIIIIII|

After a night of patrolling Gotham, Damien wanted nothing more than to shower and rest beside his partners. His body was sore and he needed a nice warm shower and Logan’s scent. He’d even managed to make it in front of her house on his mission bike. It was then he realized that he was in full Robin regale and couldn’t go to her like that because she didn’t know his damned secret. Yes, she knew Tim’s, she knew his as Red. But she did not know his as _Robin_. He looked down at his cellphone, which read that she was currently making dinner. Damien could not believe his own stupidity! How could he have forgotten? Now he was so close to her, to the sugar cane taste of her lips and soft suppleness of her body and could not even go near.

Against better judgment, he parked his bike two streets down, in an alley then went back to her house. He messaged her back, as he stood in her front yard that he was going to be late. He just wanted to look at her a little bit before going back to the manor and change into civvies. It didn’t take him long to soundlessly pick the lock and slip inside. Moving slowly, with easy footsteps, he found himself standing in the dark hallway, watching her.

However, what he saw was not what he expected.

Tim’s sweet, innocent little girl was not doing something sweet and innocent with a defenseless cucumber. Damien grinned with lascivious humor. He didn’t think she was pleasuring herself with it, but rather practicing? He almost laughed. Their sweet Logan was practicing to give them blow jobs! Oh, her lips looked pretty spread around that cucumber, glistening of her own salvia as she bobbed her head on it.

He felt himself grow hard, hissing he rubbed himself as he watched her.

He could imagine her lips on his cock, god, he would love that. The image of running his fingers through her scalp before gripping the long strands as he came in her mouth excited him. Instead of spit running down the corners of her mouth, it would be his cum. His essence filling her body as it should. Her brows were furrowed in total concentration of her task, she was focused.

How he’d love to see her lose that focus, he thought preparing to step in and announce his presence only to stop himself. He wasn’t allowed into her world as Robin. Not yet.  Damien turned around and left as silently as he came before he lost control.

When he returned to the manor, no one else was in yet except Bruce who was too occupied in the bat cave to notice him slipping in. He showered, in cold pouring water getting rid of his painful hard on. As a teenager, Damien was not elusive to the act of masturbation but that did not mean he welcomed it, like any red blooded male, he rather a warm, welcoming orifice to give him his thrills. After reaching his peak, he watched as his semen flowed down the down and felt a frustrating shame go through him. It was the first time anyone had ever driven him to the shameful act. Sighing, he finished his shower and brushed his teeth, preparing to go to Logan’s house. After he dressed, he pocketed his car keys as his cellphone began to ring.

It was Tim. “Drake,”

“Are you with Logan?”

“No, I am not. I was just leaving to go there, why?”

“No reason, I’m almost at her place. Be there in ten.”

“Okay,” Damien said, walking down the corridor until he met the staircase. “Do enjoy the salad. Especially the cucumber,”

Tim stayed quiet before giving a _drawled_ alright and hanging up the phone.

God knows he would never look at cucumbers the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts about this, comments help me to write more and ignore my deadlines. Comments are the best!


	12. Girls Night Gone Awry

She guessed that guilt had finally reached inside her best friend’s heart and wrenched it tightly for her to decide on a girl’s night. Elyria was one of those lovesick types that abandoned her friends when good dick came into her life. Well, Logan couldn’t exactly blame her, as she was all wrapped in two boys herself. She hummed to herself as she thought about Tim and Damien and how they’d made that house feel more like a home than her father and his family. Sighing, she wondered if it was them or her own mental barrier to fitting into her father’s life. She didn’t want to think of that now. Crossing her legs, she eyed Elyria as she came back to their table with their drinks in hand. She could think of that later, she decided grinning at her friend. They had decided on a West Indian restaurant that was a good hour outside of Gotham, but it was worth it. Plus, Elyria had a car, so they’d make it back. Accepting her drink, she took the hibiscus flower from her drink and sipped the rum and mango infusion. Another good thing about the restaurant was that they didn’t ask for ID, just like back home.

Elyria took a seat beside her in the booth; her friend was an attractive woman, being two years older than Logan. The nineteen-year old had beautiful bronze skin and high cheekbones; her hair was curly and brushed against her shoulders. She was tall, or at least taller than Logan, around 5”5 and her figure curvy but muscular from her track career. If she was a lesser person, Logan would have felt envious of her friend’s stretch-mark and cellulite free body but there wasn’t a moment where Elyria made her feel like less of a person for not having a rigid work-out regime. Instead she made suggestions that Logan took to heart and guided Logan to be better.

It was one of the healthiest friendships she’d ever had.

“I feel like I’ve been neglecting you,” moaned Elyria, stirring her drink, rum and coke as she stared at Logan with earnest brown eyes.

Logan shook her head. “No, you haven’t I mean we’re both busy,”

Elyria waved her hand. “That’s no excuse! You’re my best friend. I should pay more attention to you and what’s going on in your life, not only in pathetic texts.”

“Elyria, it’s fine. _Really_ ,” she reasoned.

“No, it isn’t!” Elyria told her. “C’mon, tell me how you’ve been? Dating anyone? Saw any new movies?”

Chuckling, Logan replied. “I’ve been good. And yes I am, and yes I did. _Split_ was amazing.”

“That’s great! What’s his name?” questioned her friend, taking a sip of her drink.

She blushed, stopping herself from saying both of their names. These awkward moments were what she didn’t think about, which one would she mention? Tim or Damian? God, could she say both? That’d be so awkward. Biting her lip, she let the first name that came to mind escape her lips. “ _Tim_.”

Something deep in her belly told her she would pay for that.

“How long have you known this, _Tim_?” interrogated Elyria, her eyes narrowed to silt.

“A few months,”

“You never mentioned him,”

“Well, you’ve been pretty busy.”

Ignoring the dig, Elyria continued. “What’s he like?”

“Everything I ever wanted,”

Elyria snorted.

“What?”

“Ain’t a man alive like that,” She said matter-of-factly.

“I thought you were a hopeless romantic,”

Elyria raised a finger and wagged it. “I’m a romantic with the soul of a realist,”

“That’s a thing?”

“Pfft,” she said waving her hand. “Of course it is,”

Logan rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever, I think he’s a gem.”

“Or he presents himself as such,”

“Tim doesn’t lie,” she argued.

“Whatever you say,” Elyria said, dragging the words. “Just keep your eyes open, red flags are everywhere.”

For a few seconds, Logan didn’t reply, biting her red matte lips. “Tim’s been a perfect gentleman and he’s never given me reason to believe otherwise.”

 

| **IIIIIIIIIIIII** |

Logan gone out for a girl’s night, leaving Tim and Damian in her home alone to their own devices. Not that the duo had terribly mind it, they were okay with anything she was okay with, plus Damian used the time to snoop while he caught up on some work he was lagging behind at Wayne Enterprises. Currently, as Tim sat on the bed, going through folders and tapping away at his laptop, Damian was rifling through Logan’s computer.

He shook his head at the sight of Damian’s face pensive as he used the computer. “I’m sure you won’t find anything interesting in Logan’s search history, _Brat_ ,”

“You never know, now do you, Drake?”

Tim rolled his eyes before sending an email to Bruce with some of his completed work. “What nefarious plots will you possibly find in her private stash? Fan fiction servers? Beauty blogs?”

“That’s bit sexist, Tim. Just because she’s a woman who takes care of herself does not mean she likes beauty blogs.”

“Hmm,”

“And on that note she subscribes to a surprising amount of them.”

“Thought so,”

“You think you know her so well, don’t you?” mocked Damian glaring at him with verdant eyes. “ _Red_ ,”

“Jealous?”

“Jealousy is beneath me,”

“Ha.”

“Hush, Timothy.” Damian chided. “How long is this girl’s night supposed to last for?”

“No clue,”

“What kind of lackadaisical response is that? You should know when she’s coming and going, she’s ours. Gotham is a dangerous place –”

“She’ll call me if anything.”

“We’d take about three to four hours to get anywhere,” Damian pointed out, setting Logan’s laptop on her desk and standing up. His broad shoulders were bare and so were his feet which slid as he sauntered towards him, the room was small compared to most at Wayne Manor but Tim figured it was spacious for a normal room, from what he recalled living with his parents, _before_. Damian took up space. He was imposing, dark and commanded attention, respect and awe. Not that Tim would ever tell him that of course, the bastard was already arrogant enough.

“I trust Logan to be careful,”

“ _Oh_ ,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I trust Logan. It’s the rest of Gotham that are slimy bastards.” He stated, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Tim eyed him as he sunk into the mattress. They were not extremely large men, but tall, broad shouldered and lean with bulging muscles and they seemed to dwarf the double bed. Briefly, he wondered how they slept so comfortably in it with Logan between them.

“True,” Tim agreed, finishing off a document on excel. His blue eyes scanned over the figures and tables, checking his data before firing it off. “You just want to spy on her don’t you?”

“It’s not spying,” he reasoned. “It’s checking out what’s mine.”

“ _Ours_ ,”

“Whatever,”

“Do you even know where she went?”

Damian grinned. “Of course I do, _Tim_ ,”

He rolled his eyes. “Stalker, much?”

“It’s about an hour or so from Gotham,” he started, ignoring Tim. “It’s a West Indian place, named _Gina’s Arena_ , huh…how commonly clever.”

Tim cut his eyes. _Damian was such a fucking snob._ “She’s having a girl’s night,”

“Awfully sexist of her don’t you think? Delegating an entire night for her female friends and ignoring us.”

Tim shot him a look.

To which Damian merely shrugged.

Saving his documents, Tim turned his laptop off. He might as well go with Damian – since he was determined to go, anyway. Maybe he could stop him from embarrassing Logan too much. However, knowing Damian that was easier said than done.

| **IIIIIIIIIIIII** |

If you ask any Caribbean or West Indian person what music was their weakness, they would, without a doubt, admit _soca_. It was music meant for dancing, with suggestive themes, croons and rhythms that forced their hips to sway and grind. Unashamedly, Logan was one of those persons who became very weak at the sound of it. So when the disc jockey at the restaurant began to play the latest tracks, fresh from the Caribbean, it was only nature that Elyria grasped her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. The girls giggled between themselves, grasping each other’s waist and getting lost in the pull of the music. Logan was spun around by her taller, slightly more statuesque friend, pressing her buttocks against her front.

She felt the drinks they had earlier, humming in her veins, like small bursts of electricity as she danced, rolling her waist and holding Elyria’s hands. The duo danced together, their hips moving in time with the beat and each other. Bass banged through their ear – vibrating their skin as much as their excitement. The disc jockey changed the song to something more upbeat and recent, Orlando, or something. Whatever it was, it got everyone dancing and shouting in the air. A couple not five feet from them had yelped and started dancing wildly, his hips moving at lightning speed and her hips rotating spectacularly. You’d never see anyone dance to soca music unless you saw them in a dim area, the rude twists and rhythm alike shielded by the darkness.

“We should come here more often!” Elyria shouted in her ear, as they danced.

Logan shouted back in agreement. They danced for a few songs more, ignoring any male that came up to them. After a while, Logan got thirsty and moved to the bar, between the dancing bodies. The bar was crowded and with only one lanky bartender who looked in over his head. She tapped her finger nails along the counter, heaving to catch her breath after the rigorous dancing.

“Good night, beautiful,” greeted a low, baritone voice by her ear. Rolling her eyes, she looked to the side to see a tall, lean and very attractive. Just as she was _very_ taken.

Biting her tongue, she tried to not be rude. “Good night,” she said, lowly.

“You looked breathtaking on the dance floor,” he continued. “Forgive me for sounding creepy, but I’ve been watching you since your friend dragged you onto the dance floor,”

She blushed, unaccustomed to such attention from men besides her boys. “It’s not, thank you for the compliment.”

He chuckled. “I’d like to leave you alone because you seem a bit uncomfortable but the way you fill out your dress doesn’t seem to permit me,”

Logan fidgeted, anxiously watching for the bartender.

“What would you like to drink, I can get it for you?”

She arched a brow and looked at the confusion the bartender seemed to be in. “Knock yourself out,”

He gave her a charming smile. “Jerome!” he shouted over the music. The bartender looked back, his eyes widened before he scurried, comically over to them.  “Serve the lady first,”

Clearing her throat, she rattled off her order and watched as the bartender made it quickly and with flurry. He slid her finished drink to her, with a straw and a napkin. “Thanks,” she whispered, taking a sip of her Caribbean Orgasm. A drink the restaurant part of the establishment was famous for.

“I’m glad you like the drink…” he was searching for her name, Logan, feeling the rush of EL Dorado rum, relented.

“Logan,”

He grinned, proud of himself. “It’s a pleasure, Logan. My name is Roman Rivers.”

She smiled, very much over the conversation. Sipping her drink, she looked on the floor to see Elyria dancing quite comfortably by herself. The taller girl was dipping low and hopping back up, their eyes met and she grinned.

“…I kept wondering why such a gorgeous woman was on her own.” Roman droned.

Logan blinked at him, putting her drink down on the napkin. “I’m not on my own,” she corrected. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Of course,” he chuckled, placing a hand on the counter, right beside her. She could smell his cologne. “But what I mean is, without a man.”

“I have,” _two_. “…one.”

His mouth opened in a sarcastic O. “So why isn’t he here with you tonight?”

“Girl’s night,”

“Well,” he said looking her up and down, like a hungry wolf ready to tear her to pieces or rather, a hunter ready to mount her on his wall of trophies. “…if I was him, I’d never let you out of my sight. You’re delectable, baby.”

Shivering, she took one last sip of her drink and stood, shaky in her heels. “Good night, _Roman_ ,”

“Not so fast, _Logan_ ,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Let me take care of you tonight,”

She narrowed her eyes.  “Let go of me, please,”

He released her, licking his well-shaped lips. “I’ll be right here if you need me,”

“I won’t.” she spat, walking off to meet Elyria who was on her way back to their seat, heels in hand and fanning herself. The older girl’s hair was frizzy and tied up in a makeshift style, her combination outfit of a black skin tight skirt and sliver sequence mid-drift still looked good however, highlighted by her impressive physique.

Logan jogged closer to her, grabbing her arm as they sat in the booth. “We need to leave,”

Elyria nodded. “Girl, I was just thinking the same, I’m bone tired and if I kept this up I won’t have any energy for baby boy,” she finished with a wicked smirk. “But let’s order take-out from the restaurant first.”

Logan nodded, grimacing as she turned around and saw Roman staring at them from the bar. “Let’s get something from Bee’s Knees instead, huh?”

Her friend furrowed her brows. “But I thought you liked their jerk chicken?”

“I like Bee’s Knees mauby more.” She said.

Elyria shrugged. “Cool, then, let’s go.”

 

 

The duo drove to the other restaurant, which was more tame and homely, in less than ten minutes. Bee’s Knees was owned by an immigrant couple from Guyana, Jeffery and Marjorie Bee. Everything was made fresh and anything that was left over was given to the homeless or poor that lived nearby. (Many people said that the couple made extra for that purpose, but Jeffery Bee always denied this). Logan didn’t bother putting on her coat to go inside, the Bees always kept it toasty. She won’t be too chilly in her fitted white jeans and her off-shoulder, ruffle short top which exposed her belly and shoulders. However, Elyria donned her own coat which was longer than her outfit. The two girlfriends walked in, arms hooked. The door of the diner chimed when they opened it.

There was a reasonable amount of customers inside and the fresh smell of food was in the air. The duo of friends made their way to the glass case, mouths salivating for food that reminded them of blue seas and golden suns.

They were just about to order, hungry gnawing at their bellies, not sure they would be able to take it much longer.

However, that was when they heard the gunshot in the air.

“This is a robbery! Everybody on the ground!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your thoughts!


	13. Girl's Night Gone Awry Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since summer is coming up and my finals are almost over, I’ll be finishing this off before fall hopefully but I’ll also be starting a twin fanfiction, with Richard Grayson/Elyria/Jason Todd, titled “Three’s A Crowd” and one with Bruce getting some brown sugar in his life soon. I’ll be adding all to a collection so you’ll just have to check the story information and go from there! That is, of course, if I do it correctly! Farewell, while I go study! Tell me what you think in the comments.

“Stop changing the damn station, Damian,” Tim scolded, taking a sharp turn.

Damian rolled his eyes, changing the station anyway. Tim’s taste in music was atrocious, beloved or not, he could not tolerate trashy _noise_. After he’d found Logan’s location, from the GPS he’d planted unbeknownst to her on her phone. On his own, he followed her location, from that restaurant she said she was at to another, lesser known one that he’d heard her mumble about before. He eyed the screen, glancing between that and the profile of Tim’s face as he stared at the road ahead. His dark, black hair was long and against his shoulder, silken lush strands. Pale face flush with blood, in contrast to Damian’s own, tanned skin – they were different, yet same.

They held the same wariness of a worn warrior, aged before it’s time like too ripe fruit of a cursed tree.

He appreciated he closeness to him, in the silent roar of the car as they drove to their beloved’s destination. Together, he imagined they would have led to each other’s destruction but with the third, serving as a neutralizer – he imagined, she served as a balance. A balance that without, they would explode, Tim and him, would always be _much_.  However, with her they wonderfully even.

Verdant eyes eye the red dot on the screen of his phone; they were close to her but not close enough.

“The dead drive faster than you, Timothy.”

The mentioned man rolled his eyes. “I’m going as fast as I can,”

“No you are not.”

“Fine,” he relented. “You want me to go faster?” he mocked, teasing. “I _will_ ,” he said before reviving up the car and going so fast that Damian’s head hit the headrest of his seat.

With a snide smirk, he side-eyed Damian, whose face was strained. “Fast enough?”

“Go jump into a pit, Drake,”

To that, all he replied was a rippling laughter.

 

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

Logan closed her eyes tightly, gripping Elyria’s hand and prayed. Prayed that no one would be hurt, prayed that they’d make it out alive and prayed that prayers worked. Opening them, she looked at Elyria’s worry ridden face and kissed her fingers. Passing a silent promise of tomorrow through the kiss. Her heart was thudding in her chest, racing with nervousness and wretched anxiety. Oh, how did the night go _this_ wrong? What would happen to them? The other customers? The Bees? The old couple had done nothing to deserve a robbery, nothing but work skin and bone for every single thing they achieved. Just for it to be jeopardized by some assholes with a gun? What was wrong with this world, that people no longer worked, people wanted everything handed to them and resorted to such means to get money.

Her eyes bounced from her best friend’s face to the Bees, primarily Mr. Bee who stood behind to cash register with an unimpressed face.

“C’mon, old  man, give me the money, I don’t got time for your foolishness!” the man with a Superman mask shouted, his Brooklyn accent evident, waving the gun.

The old man sucked his teeth. “ _Bhai_ , if you don’t move the _fuckin’_ gun from my face,”

The other one, who was shifting nonstop, scratching his arms and moving his body oddly, looked up, the Wonder Woman mask he wore, shook. “Old man, you better recognize and stop actin’ a damn fool!”

His wife, Mrs. Bee, trembled beside him, her large eyes bouncing from gun to gun, which stared them down. “Give him the damn money, Jeffery!”

“Twenty-two years, I working and living, here, earning my own damn money and these little thugs feel them gon come and rob me!” he grumbled, staring them down, evenly.

Wonder Woman masked kissed his teeth and fired his gun, shooting the glass display and shattering it. Glass fell to the ground, into the food, piercing the fresh pastries. Elyria hissed, beside her friend, clutching her hand. A shard of glass had sliced at her pinky finger, slicing from the side, from the nail to the wrist. Her eyes watered and she bit her gloss cover lips, the pain was killing her. Gingerly, she saw her friend pull the shard out, tossing the crimson piece aside.

With wide eyes, she watched, the robber with the Wonder Woman mask guy sway on his feet, his gun, a load weapon moving side to side. It translated as death to her, death for anyone. And for once, she hoped and begged to God, that she would be wrong.

Superman Mask seemed nervous, cursing not too hard but low enough. “Fuck this, man,” he grumbled, shooting Mr. Bee in his right arm. The bullet whizzed through the air, quick and noisy. Deafening. The screams rippled through the air and red flashed before her eyes, fear coursing through their blood streams. Mrs. Bee dropped to her knees and fumbled around her husband, teary eyed and heartbroken.

The two robbers stretched behind the cashier’s booth and reached in, taking the bills out with a fury. Bills flew about, but they hurried and scrambled.

When had the night gone, oh, so _wrong_?

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

When the two Robins arrived, they killed the engine of the sports car and noticed something odd about the atmosphere. Tim’s hands gripped the steering wheel. He opened his glove department and pulled out his mask, slipping it on. Damian furrowed his brows.

“I’ll go in, check for Logan,”

Tim nodded, agreeing. He had his mask, it would be better for him to go after the two men they watched running into the alley three buildings to the left of the restaurant.

“Good,” Damian said, leaving the car and running into the establishment. He knew, if by any chance anyone else was there, Damian could take care of himself and anyone else inside the restaurant.

Tim didn’t take long to strip down to his Red Robin outfit; he always wore it beneath his clothing. Something, Damian obviously didn’t prepare for which was shocking given that he was the Bat’s direct spawn. Bo staff in hand, he ran behind the men, as he predicted they were in the dark alley. The darkness cloaked him, allowing him to move not only silently but unseen by the two masked men.

He heard them speaking, low, hushed murmurs. “Why the hell did you shoot that old man?” one argued – Tim couldn’t see the mask. Activating the night vision in his goggles, he saw the male with the Wonder Woman mask speaking, from his off movements; he could tell he was on some sort of drug.

The other one, donning a Superman mask, kissed his teeth. He seemed just as shifty, but it appeared to be more from shiftiness than drug use. “Look, he won’t die, at least I didn’t shoot anyone else, _okay_?”

“What if he dies?” choked his partner. “I can’t go to jail.” He whimpered. “Where the hell is Jonathan?!” he finished, looking around.

“He ain’t gonna die,” said Superman mask, confidently. He took his phone from his pocket and used the light to count the stolen money.

Behind him, Tim heard the roar of a car engine, clenching his fists. He bent beside the large garbage bin. He guessed that this was Jonathan, the getaway car. The other two, didn’t seem to realize that their driver had shown up.

Tim smirked.

Jonathan killed his engine, waiting behind the wheel patiently for his two friends. It would be an easy job, robbing those two old persons. They wouldn’t have a chance, even with the crackhead. Guns always beat out everything else. The bigger the gun, the better the chances of winning. That was how the world worked, plain and simple.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t see a man in red and black sneak his hand through the window and knock him out.

It was easy the knock him out, he left his window rolled all the way down and seemed more focused on his cellphone than anything else. Donning the black outfit the getaway had been wearing over his own, he pulled the gun he found apart and threw it on the ground.

Pulling the hood of the hoodie over his head, his fixed his mask in place and strolled up to the men.

Wonder Woman was the first to notice him. “Hey, _Jono_! It took your pale ass long enough, we’ve been waiting on you for hours.”

Superman pulled his mask off, revealing a narrow, brown face and large green eyes. “I texted you to be here at 11, it’s 11:05 dumbfuck.”

Tim shook his head. Were criminals getting dumber? Pulling his staff from inside his hoodie, he pressed the button and expanded it to its true length. The idiots never knew what hit them.

 

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

Damian nursed the wounded man’s arm, but his eyes were gazing on his girlfriend’s terrified expression. When he entered, he had never been so happy to see Logan. She had been over the counter, trying help with the bleeding. Her white clothes shocked, painting her body in horrific crimson as she tried her best. Black trail ran down her face, the face paint she insisted on wearing was ruined by tears. Oh, he was happy for those tears. Happy they were not from pain, happy the worst had not happened. Looking away, he stared at the bullet, bloody and on the ground. He was lucky it went straight through, and finally, the bleeding had stopped.

He looked out, glad that sirens were in the distance, the sounds of an ambulance nearby. Good. Professional help was needed; there was only so much he could do, with his haphazard medical skills learned beneath his father’s tutelage and in the league.

Beside him, the injured man’s wife – Mrs. Bee, he presumed. She was fussy and red eyed, speaking in rapid patios. He picked up bits of what she was saying, being apt in languages. Something about foolish men and idiotic principles, the rest lost in her grumbles.

The police came, taking the Bees to the hospital in an ambulance, and trying to persuade Logan’s friend to go as well, which she quickly and persistently dismissed. Sticking her chin out with an admirable determination, however, it was also irrational.

However, it wasn’t his place to speak.

Then again, when had that ever stopped him from speaking before? His long legs quickly made his way to her, to where she stood with her friend. Her friend, whose name escaped him, sat on the hood of a police car, shaking her head as she held her hand.

“…don’t be an _idiot_ , Elle.” Logan said with a worry laced voice and folded her arms.

“I agree with Logan, it would be appropriate for them to take you to the hospital and get patched up and take your statement there.” Damian said his tone commanding and authoritative.  

Elyria looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Who the _fuck_ are you?”

Logan blushed and shook her head.

Damian stood straight. “I’m Logan’s boyfriend.”

The older woman smirked. “You Tim?”

“No,” he drawled, looking between the two friends. “I am Damian. Didn’t she tell you about me?”

Elyria snorted. “Oh, Logan baby, you got some explaining to do,” she sang with a giggle.

Logan shook her head. “Not now, Elle, I’ll explain _later_.”

“I think you should explain now.” Damian said with his arms folded.

“Oh,” Elyria said, saving her friend. “I think I get it,” with a wink she continued. “Who knew you were such a greedy little minx Logan, you could have told me you had two fellows on your arm.”

“Oh _gawd_ ,”

Damian snorted at his girlfriend’s embarrassed expression. At least her friend wasn’t a prudish, stiff. Just as he was about to insist, once more, that Elyria go to the hospital when he heard the loud gasp of his girlfriend beside him. Dropping from the roof of Bee’s, was three men tied up in rope and masks hanging by their neck. But that only held his gaze for a moment. Above stood Tim Drake, donning his Red Robin costume with his mouth set in a grim line as he watched down from the rooftop. A poetic thought came over him, watching Tim stand above them, thinking him a dark, heroic angel, overlooking Gotham.

“Wow,” Elyria mumbled.

“Showoff,” muttered Damian as he threw his arm over Logan’s shoulder and brought her close to his side. Enjoying the pressing of his flesh against his own even clothed. “Come on, Logan, let’s get you home and your friend to the hospital…”

“I’ll do that.” A male voice commanded.

Damian’s eye twitched, he’d know that voice anywhere. Turning, he saw the one and only Jason Todd. Jason was his brother, adopted of course, who never seem too overly fond of him. Although, it wasn’t like Damian was very likable anyway. (Not that he cared to be liked or disliked that is, of course.) “What the hell are you doing here, Todd?” snarled Damian, without the expected venom but rather curiosity.

Todd regarded him for a moment, blue eyes glancing from Damian to Logan. “Hi there, Logan,”

“Jason,” she greeted, unaware of the tension around her. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was coming to surprise, Elle, picture my surprise when I found a crime scene instead of a peaceful, quiet restaurant.”

“Jay,” crooned Elyria. “It was before, but something happened…”

“I see that.” He replied, restraining himself. “C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital.”

Sighing, Elyria tossed her car keys to Jason and got into the passenger side. A pout on her pretty face, Jason shook his head, an exasperated expression on his face as he pushed pass Damian. It was strange, he knew he recognized Elyria from somewhere, and he knew she knew Richard, so naturally she would know Jason. Scoffing he shook his head, of course.

 _Brothers always shared_.

 

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

Logan had fallen asleep in the car, snuggled against the leather seat of the car. The night had been exhausting and her rest was dreamless. It was the second time in the past few months that she had encountered guns and such a horrendous situation. First when she was walking home from a party and the second time when she just wanted to have fun. Awake now, she remained with her eyes closed listening to the silence of the car, punctuated by her boyfriends’ breathing and occasion sighs.

She just wanted a shower, to brush her teeth and to fall asleep between her boys. That was all she felt could soothe her tonight, after witnessing that poor man being shoot. Yes, she had lived in Gotham for couple years and yes, she had seen her fair share of violent crimes but she never knew them. She knew he’d be alright, but just the idea that someone could kill such nice people, for only money, disgusted her. Then again, she supposed, she has never been hungry enough to want to do such a thing, therefore, how can she judge? She didn’t know situation, or reason. _But_ , a voice chided, _what reason to take a life for a few bucks?_

Sitting up, she rubbed her neck.

The action caused Damian to look into the rearview mirror and gaze at her. Tim, whom she had not realized when he got in the car just that he _was_ there, turned his head to face her, face reading of concern and care. He was more expressive than Damian when it came to reading him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She smiled, tiredly. “I’m fine but I need to get out of these clothes,”

He chuckled. “I understand, you’ll be home soon.” He promised, searching her face with baby blue eyes. Shortly after, they arrived at her house, and the first thing she did was run to her bathroom and shower, scrubbing the night away. After a thorough shower, she skipped her usual moisturizing routine and dressed in her underwear and one of Damian’s t-shirts before making it to her bedroom. Her boys were sitting her bed, looking freshly showered as well, in their underwear, preparing to sleep as well. She smiled upon seeing them, happy they were with her tonight. How would she survive without their presence lulling a comfort over her she has never truly known? Sliding between them, she kissed each of their cheeks, inhaling the smell of their soap and the delicious feel of their skin beneath her lips.

“Thank you, guys,” she whispered contently, pulling Damian’s arm around her waist, and slinging her arm around Tim’s torso. “For everything, not just tonight,” she explained falling to sleep with a smile on her face.

Tim kissed her forehead and her hair. “It’s our pleasure…”

Damian kissed her neck. “…we take care of our own…”

“….Always,” the duo said, unbeknownst to them that she had long fallen asleep, content in their arms.

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

Carol Williams (as she had changed her name after marriage) was a woman of many virtues.

She worked from home, was a dedicated housewife and mother to her son loved her husband and his daughter like she was her own, despite her cold shoulder and rarely raised her voice. After a tiring five days with her parents and their constant nagging and judgment, she’d caught the first flight home. She parked her car in the garage, eyeing the strange sports car outside her house, but was too tired to contest its origin. Choosing to abandon the luggage, deciding to get it later, she hoisted her son onto her hip and made her way to his bedroom. After undressing him from his outside clothes, she tucked him into his Spiderman bed and turned his nightlight on. Giving him a kiss before leaving him to rest, bypassing Logan’s room, she stopped; hesitating at the doorway.

The door was ajar.

Perhaps she should peek in? Just to check out how she was doing, after all, the teenager was left to her own for almost a week. While they may not have an ideal relationship, she cared for the girl and felt her maternal instinct call out for her to check on the girl.

She pressed a hand against the door, about to push it open when she felt a small palm on her thigh. Looking down, she saw her son, rubbing his eyes.

“Momma, read to me?” he whined, sighing, she bit her lip glancing at the room before shaking her head and picking her other child up. Logan would be alright, she was a good girl. That much, Carol knew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of it? Leave your thoughts; tell me what you like, what you don’t like. Also, since summer is coming up and my finals are almost over, I’ll be finishing this off before fall hopefully but I’ll also be starting a twin fanfiction, with Richard Grayson/Elyria/Jason Todd, titled “Three’s A Crowd” and one with Bruce getting some brown sugar in his life soon. I’ll be adding all to a series so you’ll just have to check the story information and go from there! That is, of course, if I do it correctly! Farewell, while I go study! Tell me what you think in the comments.


	14. Maintenance [Happiness] – Panic Attacks [ Change] – Blowjobs (Not Necessarily In That Order)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I made two errors in both Rooftops and Three’s A Crowd, I placed Gotham in New York when it’s supposed to be in New Jersey. The reason why is because honestly, Gotham just seemed like New York and I’ve read several articles about there being “Gotham” in New York. But anyway, I shall not amend this error – so kindly fuck off if you wanna bitch about it. Error number two; Damian was spelled Damien, I’m aware the name can be spelled both ways but the former is accurate. I do apologize, and will amend when I have the time. (Not bloody soon). Also, this is not so much an error as a warning, this is fan fiction. In this fan fiction, I am the fucking little god on a pink wall making the decisions. So, I will pull from as many universes as I want into one big massive poly fan fiction and make it work as I can. You don’t like it? Go read something else, don’t comment your distaste. I will delete it.

Visions of masks haunted her dreams. Superman, Wonder Woman, plastic mockeries of justice floating – the sickening sound of a bullet whizzing through the air. Breaking sound barriers, echoing and ripping the calm with precise and exact aim, like a knife cutting the air. It filled her ears like a white noise, not exactly but totally. The memory of it, fresh and bloody like the wound she tried to heal on Mr. Bee’s arm. Logan hadn’t realized she was crying. The tears rolled down her cheeks, rosy cheeks damp as she pressed her face against the hard chest of her boyfriend. His chest, bare, was probably wet with her flowing tears.

That was how she woke up, with wet cheeks and two handsome, worried faces peering down at her.

For a full, five seconds, she wasn’t sure what was going on. Until, she felt the prickle in her eyes. Touching her cheek, she felt the wetness beneath her fingertips. Memories of her dream came through, the horror, the terror she felt. Gripping Tim’s forearm, she dug her nails into his skin and heaved with dry sobs.

Surprisingly, it was Damian who rubbed her back and whispered into her ear, soft comforts. Ten minutes later, her breathing became better regulated and she relinquished her grip on Tim, sitting up and covering her face in her hands. She didn’t want to speak about it. Last night, she wanted it all to be _erased_. “I need to get ready for work,” she murmured.

Damian ran his fingers down her arm, the exposed skin felt soft beneath his touch, buzzing with life and excitement. He held her from getting off the bed, staring at her with such intensity that she let her gaze drop. “It’s Sunday,” he states, drawling lazy.

She hums under their touches, their familiar scents and soft caresses. It is when she closes her eyes and pressed her chest to Damian’s that she actually hears what he said. “It’s Sunday!” she yells, wriggling from between them. “Oh god that means Carol is coming this morning!” she says scurrying from the bed and the two Adonises which kept her there.

Logan opened her bedroom door and looked down the hall before cursing. Micah’s room was wide open and she could see the shape of his figure wrapped up in a sheet as he lay sleeping. How did she let this happen? If Carol saw the boys she’d freak out! Worst of all, she’d tell her father! Closing her bedroom door, she snapped the lock shut, looking back at the two delectable men laying there. “You two need to leave,”

“Why?” Damian asked, irritated.

“Because my step-mother’s home!” she shrieked, picking up every scrap of clothing that belonged to the two about her room and stuffing them into the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers. “Why are you two still lying there?!” she screeched, hands on her hips as she glared at them.

“Watching you panic is almost as attractive as watching you get angry.” Damian quipped, and Tim blushed.

“Oh fuck off, Damian!” she said, cleaning hurriedly. “You two need to get the hell out of here!” she repeated, peeling off her top and grabbing a fresh set of clothes. “Please be out of here by the time I finish my shower!”

“Can we join?” Tim called, smirked as she cursed him.

 

As asked, when she exited the bathroom, after moisturizing her skin and braiding her hair in two French braids, and dressing in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, she sighs in relief that boys are gone. A smirk graces her face as she eyes her bed; it looks like the boys had even made her bed for her. Going to her drawer, the one she wore the night before, she withdraws her cellphone – not shocked to see the battery at 20%. Plugging it in, she eyed her notifications. There are a few emails, from the blogs she subscribe to, one from the online book club she joined and some other from social media. Sitting on the plush, carpeted ground of her room, she clicks the link that takes her to instagram to see her notifications. There are a few likes on a #spideypool picture she posted and some more on a selfie she took with Elyria before they’re night went awry. However, it was the two new followers that made her eyebrow quirk. _Tim_Drake_ and _DamianW_. She almost snorted in the lack of imagination they placed into their screen names. Anyway, she was sure they were simply for show rather than use. Damian didn’t seem like the kind of person to spend hours on social media (like she did sometimes) and Tim was probably much too busy. Scoping their profiles, she did Tim’s first, rolling her eyes at the fact that he only posted five pictures but had over ten thousand followers. All of who, she was sure, were mainly Gotham socialites and wanna-be socialites who wanted, so desperately to be a part of the Wayne World. _Ha_ , she snorted, _Wayne’s_ _World_ , she snorted again.

With Damian, it was similar, though a bit more artsy. Bored, she liked all combined ten of their posts and followed them before locking her phone, leaving it to charge.

When she arrived to the kitchen, Carol was humming, with Micah sitting sleepy at the breakfast table, scooping his fruit up with a blue spoon. She saw them, happy and well, it made her feel, damn, _good_. The thought of them being ripped from life before their time by some asshole with a gun made her sick. The whole incident made her appreciate life more, the thought of imminent danger felt her skin grew in terror.

Slowly, a dark and treacherous thought entered her thoughts.

Red faced dangers like that all the time. She gasped. Despite all his gadgets, skill and weapons, Tim has a human being and all humans bleed. What would happen, if one night he was off his game and he died? All it took was one mistake, one damnable occurrence and all was lost. He, the first man she cared about on a serious level, would be gone. Snuffed out like a candle in the eastern wind.

Trembling, she turned from the kitchen, back into the hall.

Death was all round them, danger and abyssal lost. Logan didn’t know if she could handle such a thing, if she was strong enough. Shaking her head, she grabbed her bag, which held her wallet, slipped on her shoes and ran from the house, hopping on the first bus outside of suburbia to head to Gotham Park.

Gladly leaving her cell phone behind, she hurried.

 

 

Gotham Park was located in the midst of the urban metropolis. On a lazy Sunday like today, there were teenagers who lived nearby playing basketball by the court, kids running about the green fields – probably their only contact with nature for the week. It wasn’t serene, but there was a wholesome peace about it she’d never deny. Logan would visit there often, when she first moved to Gotham, finding comfort in its state during the summer and spring time. A soft reminder of a home she once loved when her family was whole. She would be the first to admit, perhaps, she never gave Carol a chance, but she was never cruel to the woman. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t Carol she was upset with, but rather, her father. See, she blamed her father for the divorce. Blamed him for making her mother a distant figure in her life, blamed him for cheating on her mother but most of all, blamed him for being a shit human being. Now, when he tried to be what a father should be, she couldn’t take him seriously. All she saw was the man who had made her mother weep for days on end, throwing herself into her work and abandoning her only child. Gripping her t-shirt, she bit her lip and silenced her tears.

Tears were useless, along with her feelings when it came to her parents.

Bitterness settled in her chest, holding onto such feelings did her no good. They never did. Sniffling, she picked up her glasses and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. It must have made a depressing sight. Her sitting there all alone in the park, sniffling like some sort of damnable weakling was disgusting.

But that’s what she was, at the end of the day. Wasn’t she? A simple weakling that Red took pity on and in turn, an interest then there was Damian – oh, these perfect, beautiful boys who found her fascinating. She wondered, what on earth were they doing with her? She had cellulite on her thighs, stretch marks on her breasts and hips, she was marred and nothing in comparison.

Logan choked on her tears, a wet, sobbing mess. Utterly human, in that moment, utterly _weak_. Standing up, she wiped her face with a tissue – cleaning the snot and tears away, before moving towards the rubbish. She tossed the used papers and descended down the small hill, passing the boys playing basketball. The fresh air would clear her thoughts; a walk would ease her soul. That’s what she needed, ease – sweet, sweet, _ease_.

The sun felt good, its heat kissing her skin like a passionate sinner, covering the ice of her soul. It felt like home for once – the sun. She walked slowly through the streets, it rare that she came to this part of Gotham. It wasn’t exactly downtown but leaned more on the uptown, posh Gotham she dipped into occasionally. Briefly, she recalled a pastry place her mother would take her to, in the early days. It ignited pleasant memories of her childhood and she smiled at the thoughts that came with it. She wondered, was it still around? It wasn’t far off from the park, so, it would make sense for her to check it out. What could a little detour hurt?

Naturally, the place wasn’t hard to find and it hadn’t looked all that different from when she was younger. It was quaint but chic. Classy and modern, the scents however, which wafted from it with each open of the door, were absolutely heavenly.

She didn’t really want to buy anything, despite the appetizing aromas; all she wanted was something to jog her memories. However, when she entered, the place looked completely different from what she’d known it as. It was less traditional and looked much more contemporary. The plastic booths and jukebox were gone, in its place, hard, uncomfortable looking furniture and there were speakers lined on the wall. Abstract paintings hung on the wall and alternative rock filled the air. _That_ didn’t feel right.

Logan hadn’t realized she was gripping the handle of the door until someone bumped into her, rudely shoving her backwards. Outside. Biting her lip, she shook her head and took a generous step back. Could nothing stay the same? With a sigh, she headed for the bus stop, what was she thinking? It was such a silly, silly, notion, to think that some things didn’t change.

Everything changed.

It was an inevitable fact of life, like body hair, death and taxes. Change and growth, went hand in hand.

As she got on the bus for home, she was not sure how she felt about that fact.

|IIIIIIIIIIIII|

Tim and Damian rarely spent time together outside of Logan lately.

Not that that was a bad thing of course.

He was less likely to kill Damian that way, with Logan’s soft words and skin distracting the both of them from being too poisonous. However, there were some times that they were forced to interact. Like when Bruce had to hold up public appearances and they were forced to parade around with him. To make it worst, they had to pretend they were normal. That means, no touching, no kissing, no _nothing_. Now, while Tim was a more controlled figure, Damian was not.

Damian was also very possessive and an all-around little shit that liked to torture Tim. The combination was, as usual when it came to Damian, _troublesome_.

The brunch they’re forced to attend, on the rooftop of the Claremont Buildings is a fine example of Bruce parading them around – appearances and all that.

While Bruce was schmoozing a woman around his age, mid-thirties with silicone breasts and a nose different from the one she had last year – his eyes dead but face bright with false excitement. _Poor Brucie_ , Tim thought, snorting to himself as he drunk some of the iced tea being served in cute, homely jars. He took a healthy sip and gazed at Dick’s false cheerful expression. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, yet, there was something in his expression every time he checked his phone that made his cheeks pink and even with the greatest Bat’s training couldn’t hide it.

It was amusing.

Damian, however, made no effort to hide his disinterest in the event. Rolling his eyes and shooing off the society teenagers that tried to engage him in conversation. Too bad Tim couldn’t be so crass to the young woman by his side, whispering in a low, sultry voice.

He didn’t know her name, but she looked young, about Logan’s age. Pale skinned and voluptuous red curls with forest colored eyes. She smiled at him when he looked to his side – almost as if to see if she was still there.

He grimaced, she still was. “Your father said you went to Paris to study for a bit, I always loved France, it’s so cool. Like, the views are spectacular and they have the best shopping areas.”

Tim rolled his eyes. Paris? That’s the cover story Bruce had been pedaling to define his temporary exile from Gotham? Sure, they’d eat it up but it was so damned cliché. Could have at least said LA, which was showy enough. “Paris was lovely, the cafes were _pittoresque_.” He said, easily, the French rolling off his tongue.

Her green eyes – nothing like the green eyes he usually found himself staring into, bore into him. He shifted, looking down the ledge, over the artificial hedge, to the street. What he wouldn’t give to be anywhere but there…

“…you have a girlfriend?”

Sputtering, Tim tried not to spill the cold beverage on his neat shirt. “Excuse me?”

She fluttered her lashes. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, um,”

“Or do you have a boyfriend?”

 _Both_.

“I am taken,” he said.

The girl, whose name escaped him, pouted. “That’s a shame,” she twirled her hair. “But I’m sure whoever she is wouldn’t mind…”

“Timothy.” A harsh, annoyed voice called – interrupting the one sided conversation.

Tim would have been relieved if not for the tone. Damian was annoyed. An annoyed brat was the last thing he needed. Luckily, Damian had enough decorum not to act outrageous in public. Now, in private? That was a completely different story.

“I believe we had an appointment else, don’t we _brother_?” the legal familiarity of their bond was sharp and painful – precise use of words, much like his precise use of weaponry He cut the air and made his point clear.

The girl blinked owlishly, thinking nothing more of his crude manner – the girls never did, really, and they still ended up sleeping with him. Well, used to, before he caught wind of Logan. “Uh, yeah, certainly,” stammered the girl, indiscreetly slipping a paper with her phone number into his shirt pocket.

He didn’t miss the way Damian’s green eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I should tell _Br_ –our father that we’re leaving,” Tim said, as he slid from his seat, towards Damian.

The biological Wayne scoffed. “He’s aware,”

 _Naturally_.

Damian at least waited until they were in the elevator to force it to halt and pressed his against the wall. There tall frames meshing against the other, lips pressed and moving furiously kissing with unabashed hunger. Tim gripped his shoulder, the board mass covered in a light blue shirt that was gorgeous against his tanned skin and made his exotic features pop. Damian cupped his chin and pressed his groin hard against Tim’s, grinding in an animalistic fashion.

Damian and him specialized in rough, hate sex however, lately they’d migrated to simply rough sex and tender afterglow. Usually, Damian was not so jealous or possessive of him – not that he wasn’t always to some degree, just not so active about it – but the sex that came with it was glorious and Tim would be the first to admit he thrived on the aggressive passion he emulated.

So, when Damian drops to his knees and takes out his cock, sucking what was rightfully his (and Logan’s) with a fury. Tim is not surprised and inside he relishes in it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tim whispers lowly, his finger thread Damian’s black hair, gripping the strands, pulling him closer as he grew closer. The older Robin was fully aware that the bratwas not a virgin but for the little bastard to be that good at all things sexual? It was damn near absurd. But you’d never hear him complain, sliding his cock in and out of Damian’s wet mouth, the turgid member fat and covered with angry veins.

“It must have drove you mad seeing that girl flirt with me, while you had to be polite to Bruce’s business partner’s spawns,” Tim mocked lowly, hissing as Damian licked along the underside of his cock, before swallowing the mushroom head.

“I would have told her that I already have two _someones_ ,” he taunted, pushing his member further into Damian’s mouth without his consent, grunting when his nails dug into his thigh. Damian wasn’t the only one with a mischievous mouth – it would do him good to remember that. “God knows she probably could suck cock as good as you, isn’t that right, _brat_?” Tim kept pushing and pushing, his words and sly taunts interrupted by the occasion whimper of near completion.

(Perhaps the little demon was rubbing off on him)

He was quite certain no one had a mouth like Damian – especially when he came inside it and watched into those vicious green eyes, as he swallowed it all.

They composed themselves, wiping off any suspicious residue with the handkerchiefs Alfred had ironed for them that morning.

Damian looked pristine and neat, popping a mint onto his tongue, as if he hadn’t just sucked the life out of Drake.

Tim, composed himself equally and had checked his pants thrice for any stains; however, Damian was proficient (as expected) and there was no trace of their oral affair in the elevator. Or themselves.

The door opened and they walked into the parking lot, greeting a family of five who were none the wiser about what had gone on between the two for the pass five minutes. As they made their way to their respective mode of transportation, Tim couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Damian toss a crumpled paper onto the cement floor with a smug expression. Anyway, he supposed that’s where the article belonged.

|IIIIIIIIIIIIIII|

When Logan returned, it was through the back door and the kitchen was empty. Scents of a prepared lunch wafted in the air and she could see the pre-prepared dinner on the counter. It must have just been over, because she could see the freshly washed wares sitting in the rack by the sink. Slipping off her shoes, she held them up between her fingers and stepped carefully into the living room, peeking inside to see Carol sitting with her legs folded as she read a novel and Micah watching cartoons. They looked peaceful, happy and safe. Something inside her chest blossomed – like a fiery rose of passion.

She would like to keep them like that for as long she could and they deserved, though she might not show it, she loved the two and they were her family. Despite any inhibition she may have, they were family and it was about damn time she acted like it.

Carol shifted, raising up her eyes from her book and over the black wire frame of her reading glasses – Logan was quick though, she was gone by the time her step-mother looked up and cursed her cowardice.

Maybe tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember guys, dialogue is important, tell me what you think, what you want to see – let’s discuss.


	15. Who Were You With Last Night, Baby?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so s o r r y about the delayed update, I recently moved and broke up with my partner so, yeah. ANYWAY, anyone read celebrity fanfiction? If so, who/what kind? I wanna do some interracial ones and idk. Yo girl thinking, like Tom Hiddleston, James Mcavoy and just about any other one we don’t really see much OFC of color with.

The water in the tub had gone cold.

Logan closed her eyes and pushed herself under, the conditioner from her hair was thoroughly washed out, the water would not be unpleasant. It had been a while since she treated herself. Relaxed her hair, washed it thoroughly, exfoliated, used the fancy scrub Elyria got her and even painted her toe nails in bright crimson. She held her breathe for a while – she was always good at holding her breathe, before rising from the water. Her fingers gripped the edge of her tub, and she huffed. While under water, everything was much quieter and she felt wonderfully, lost.

Capturing her lip under her teeth, she sunk beneath the water once more.

It had been a day since she’d seen either boys and without their knowledge she’d gone back to her Aunt June’s apartment, this time with actual reason. Aunt June had to fly back home for a funeral and Jamal went with her, leaving her as the only one to take care of her apartment until they returned. Although it can be argued that being alone was not what she needed – it was nice all the same.

Then again, no man is an island?

She rose from the water again, gasping, running a hand over her face and in her blurry vision she saw two dark haired angels at her door. Cursing, she sinked a little lower, modesty calling for her to cover what she could – the room was dark, they probably couldn’t see much anyway.  
The light from the hallway illuminated their edges, the tips of their black hair, the curves of their unique, handsome faces – yes, they were gods. Tim’s pale skin seemed to glow; he was stark beneath the soft light and outstanding against the black. Damian was masked by it, his verdant eyes glowing like a snake’s in the rainforest, what were men like this doing in the presence of someone like her?

It was Damian who flicked the light on, his gaze penetrating, not lustful, not cold, it was unreadable. He walked closer before squatting by the tub, placing a large hand on her smaller one. His tanned skin, much lighter than her own golden brown, yet, it was natural and _good_. Yes, his touch, he, was simply good.

It was Tim who spoke first, bringing her attention to him, as he stood at the foot of the tub, she hadn’t even heard him move. “We have been calling you for the past two hours, Logan,”

She furrowed her brows; she hadn’t been in here that long – had she? “Oh,” is all she can muster.

Damian scoffed. “Tf,” he kissed her fingers. “Is that all you can say? Tim and I had been worried sick about you, especially after what happened…”

“I was in the bathe,” she said lamely.

Damian rolled his eyes.  “For two hours?” he asked, in a mumble, inspecting her pruned fingers and skin. “What’s the matter?”

Logan’s breathe caught in her throat, and she coughed. There were some things she didn’t share, at least not yet, even though she cared for the boys. “I lost track of time,”

They sensed the obvious lie but didn’t push. Instead they helped her out of the tube, wrapped her and her hair in a towel and let the water drain. She was soft against them, dampening their clothing, but they didn’t say anything.

“I have to put my hair in curlers,” she muttered, helplessly against Tim’s chest.

“I’ll help you,” he offered.

She snorted. “Even though it’s straightened, it’s still outta yo’ league honey.” She taunted, a small smile on her face.

Damian rubbed her back. “Glad we could make you laugh,”

To that she nods, smiling. “You guys can step out, it’ll only take me twenty minutes to get my hair in curlers, I’ll be right out,” She says, sending them off. She doesn’t think to ask how they found out about the apartment, or how they even know no one would be there tonight. Logan tries not to think about a lot of things, focusing on just getting her hair in some damn curlers. It doesn’t take long, and she dresses in the bathroom too, a skinny strap top that can pass over her curls and a gray shorts. The boys have seen her wake up in the morning, slept with her and know what she looks like in the earliest hours – so, she doesn’t feel shy when she goes the room allotted to her by Aunty June, and snuggles between the two.

They’re silent at first, simply stroking her skin, kissing the fresh flesh as they lingered lovingly. She doesn’t poke at the quiet, planting the occasional kisses against Damian’s neck and pressing her back against Tim’s hard front. Logan ignores the tingle she feels when he kisses behind her neck, tasting as much exposed skin as possible. There’s something utterly natural and easy about them as they laid like that. It thrills her, and scares her.

Good things can easily be taken away.

Damian kisses that thought away, cupping her face and pressing their lips together, slipping his tongue between her plumb lips. He clashes inside her mouth, tasting and tasting, open mouths together, forming one tongue tied organism. Out of the blue, she pulled back, knocking Tim in his face with her head of curlers.

“Fuck!” the twenty-one year old cursed.

“Oh my god!”

“Ha!”

“Are you okay, Tim?” Logan asked, spinning her head around so fast Damian almost became the second victim.

The youngest Wayne hissed lowly, as she gushed over Tim, rolling his eyes at their boyfriend’s pathetic lame duck routine. Really, it was just curlers; it wouldn’t have hit him that badly. But the simpering fool seemed to enjoy Logan fawning over him. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes and she kissed his face and muttered apologies.

It was really so pathetic, Damian thought, scowling. “Don’t be a fool, Logan. The idiot’s playing a trick on you, playing on your kind heart. This is the great Red Robin,” she noted the slight contempt in which he spoke. “I mean; he can take more than a few hits with some curlers.”

Tim scowled in return, holding Logan’s waist when she tried to move away, bringing her to his lap. “Shut up, Brat.”

“You continue to amaze me with your powerful vocabulary, Timothy.”

“Shut up, Damian,” growled Logan, moving her hips ever so slightly against Tim’s groin.

“Now you two are ganging up on me? I am hurt, truly.”

“ _Shut up_!”

|IIIIIIIIIIIIIII|

The com buzzing in his front jean pocket was what woke him up. It was a soft vibration, barely there but managed to capture his attention. Damian’s eyes snapped out and he snarled at the device. It was two am in the morning, Logan had long since gone to sleep and so had Tim, except even he was awakened now. The sound of the com instinctive and imbedded into them like a part of their soul, he hated the idea of leaving Logan alone – but what choice did they have? Damian and Tim slipped out from beside her.

“I should leave a note.” Damian decided.

“And tell her what?”

It was an unspoken decision that they had not told Logan about Damian’s other life yet, leaving some secrets for themselves. Damian frankly was not ready. At least that’s what he assumed – anyway.

“We’ll be back before she wakes up, eh?” Tim said running his fingers through his hair as he slipped his jeans on.

Damian took a moment to admire the denim molding his firm ass cheeks before nodding. Logan slept like the dead; they had a few good hours to occupy themselves with Gotham’s scum.

|IIIIIIIIIIIIIII|

It was three thirty in the morning when Logan jolted awake, choking on air. Her nightmares strangling her – she reached out, expecting warm bodies at each side but finding nothing by rumpled sheets. Panic flowed through her veins, unreasonable anxiety pumping into her.

Where.

Were.

Her.

Boys.

Logan heaved against the bed, pressing her face to a pillow. They had probably gone to the bathroom or something. _Together_? A voice sounding oddly like her mother mocked. She pounded the bed, it was probably nothing. _Nothing_. Tim, she knew it wasn’t something to worry about – he’d probably gone to do Red Robin stuff, she was accustomed to him leaving odd hours. Damian? She wasn’t sure, she didn’t want her mind to go unforgivable places, the thought of him cheating on her – leaving for some lithe Gotham socialite whose perfect skin and body would keep him warm. Logan shot upwards.

They were new to each other, a little over a month – Tim, she’d vouch for, but Damian? She didn’t know. Why else would he leave at that time of the night? She knew he couldn’t be in the apartment; Damian would never pick his shoes and clothes up if it was just him and her in the apartment. No, he left alright, left for a reason she had no idea what it was.

Crawling from the bed, she switched the light on, looking around for a note, something that said he wasn’t far off – something to ease her troubled mind. There was no sign. Logan sighed. There was no way she’d be going back to sleep now, and she was too worried to eat, no hunger in her soul or belly. So, she pulled up her laptop and slipped her glasses onto her face. Rubbing her eyes, at the harsh light on them, Logan did something she hadn’t thought of before.

She googled Damian Wayne.

Naturally, some things came up. He was after all the youngest son of Bruce Wayne. One of the world’s wealthiest men and he was a handsome bachelor – as far as society was concerned. There wasn’t much information about his dating life, his patterns on the web, Damian was private. However, there were a few stray tabloid articles that compared him to his father, a notorious playboy. That made her stomach clench.

It wouldn’t be hard for Damian to find himself someone else…someone _better_. Every time she looked at him, she knew that. Besides, when had she ever been enough to make someone stay? Not even her own mother…

But there was Tim, her beautiful Red Robin that battled his own demons and was just as damaged as her. They both could do better, she knew this. Damian was sixteen, young, handsome and rich. His board shoulders, narrow waist and sculpted figure were stuff that wet dreams were built upon. Hell, if she was totally honest, she’d had more than her share of dreams of him flinging her over his shoulders like caveman. But _that_ wasn’t the point right now. The point was that her beautiful boyfriend Damian was out, and she had no idea where he was and that made her feel anxious.

Insecure.

Worried.

And inevitable pathetic…because it lead to one conclusion and she didn’t know how to take that conclusion. The idea that he could do something like that to her just, it was heartbreaking. Sure, she didn’t love him as yet but there was no denying she didn’t care about him, deeply. But how much did she really know about Damian Wayne? Tim, had shared with her somewhat, in their rooftop dawdling. She knew his secret identity, she knew his favorite books, she knew his parents were for all intents and purposes dead, that Bruce Wayne had taken him in, that he worked with Teen Titans and had made friends with them, she knew he liked the mutton stew she made and that he had no rhythm when it came to dancing with her to 90s RnB and Reggae but Damian…all she really knew was that he was a vegan and animal lover.

She covered her face.

This was a boy, younger than her, that she’d allowed into her room, seen her naked and touched her in ways no man but Tim had. Logan shut her laptop, jolting up from the desk and plunging herself onto her bed. Maybe it was just paranoia?

Damian could have just gone out to score some drugs. That was the kind of thing little rich boys liked to do and Barnes Avenue was the kind of place where it was just a block away. Logan scoffed at idea. Damian didn’t seem like the type to be a crackhead. But then again, which crackhead actually seemed like the type? Ugh. Why was she even up at three thirty – wait, she checked her phone that was charging on her nightstand. It was four in the morning now.

Suddenly, she jerked up, hearing her window open. In the dark, from the light streaming in from outside, she saw Damian crawl in, his long limbs easy for him. He was dressed in the same clothes he came with – but she could see his hair was wet and he appeared to have freshly showered.

Logan stiffened.

Why else would he be freshly showered if he had not smelt like some woman? She knew Tim and him had a relationship, however she wasn’t sure about its dynamics, because Tim had kissed her without Damian being involved before so she was certain it wasn’t a classic relationship.

“What are you doing up?” Damian asked, his voice, not harsh.

“Where were you?” she demanded.

He opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare lie to me!”

He narrowed his eyes, green, vicious things boring into her soul. She shivered. “Logan, I don’t appreciate that tone.”

She threw a pillow at him – which he caught, naturally. “Fuck you, Damian! And fuck whoever you were with tonight!”

Damian bristled. “What?”

“You heard me, pretty boy.”

“Where do you think I was, Logan?”

Logan rolled her eyes, picking up another pillow to pelt his with. Which Damian caught, naturally. He tossed the two feather stuffed items to the ground, crawling onto the bed – she saw marks on his face. A cut across his chin. She narrowed her eyes.

So, he was with a kinky bitch?

Damian pressed her till she laid on her back, his large, long, muscled arms trapping her. He looked angry and venomous. She felt inadequate beneath his gaze – but she tried not to show it. “Where do you think I was, Logan?” he repeated, his breathe hot and minty on her face.

“It’s four in the morning, Damian, you came back showered and in the same clothes you were wearing before – where were you? Or rather who were you with?” she spat.

Damian’s face twisted cruelly, he sneered kissing her lips forcefully and roughly. She stayed still, as he pressed on until his teeth grazed her lips, prying them open for him to tongue about her mouth. His hand travelled down to her throat, holding it gently before squeezing it. His other hand travelled under her shirt, cupping her breast. Logan tried not to feel turned on by his forceful acts, his powerful hold and his sinful lips. He grinded himself between her legs, his hard cock rubbing against her soft thigh from beneath the denim of his jeans – god, he was thick. Logan didn’t even fight it – ashamed to be like this with someone who probably had another woman – or man, beneath him not an hour ago. But god help her, couldn’t resist grasping his cock, massaging it with her hand.

Damian stopped kissed her lips, moving bite her ear before whispering into it. “God, you frustrate me, woman,” he grunted, moaning when she unzipped his pants, cupping his bare cock.

“Where were you, Damian?” she whispered, licking his jawline, and passing her fingers delicately over his cockhead.

He cursed, thrusting his hips and dick into her hand more. He didn’t want to talk or be questioned, he wanted no words – only feeling. “I was out.”

“Where?” she demanded, holding his cock tighter and pumping faster – if she kept this up, he wouldn’t last longer. All the pent up arousal he had towards her would spill between her thighs, and cover the crouch of her innocent white panties.

Damian moved his hand from her neck and moved to her clit, strumming the swollen nub. He knew how to get her stuttering and mess, just like she made him. Tweaking her nipple, he slipped a finger inside her slick entrance and proceeded to fuck her.

“How does it feel?” he whispered, smiling as she hissed and buckled beneath him. “If you think any other woman or man, besides Tim, would have the pleasure of holding my cock or my fingers,” he punctuated by adding a second finger, causing her to scream his name. He scissored her inside for a bit, using his long fingers to fuck her slowly. “…inside of them, you are a _fool_ , my beloved.”

“Damian, Damian, Damian, Damian,” she muttered, like a sinful prayer to a carnal god. He beneath his head sucked her neck – a sweet spot of hers and grinned when her walls throbbed around his fingers.

Her hands, small, feminine, soft, worked him over, making him tremble like a cheap whore above her. He looked at her face, eyes half-lidded, mouth open – she looked like a goddess. He was her personal devotee.

She came in his hand, disappointingly fast and she blushed with shame. Her hands falling from his cock – so close to release – she wasn’t finish however. Logan pushed him to his back – only because he let her, and popped the head of his cock into her mouth.

It was warm, wet and she hallowed her cheeks around him. He looked at her lips around him, plumb, perfect and spread by his fat cock. She was made for him, he decided, as she bobbing her head up and down his erect member.

Damian almost lost it when she swallowed so much of him, it hit her tonsils.

He gripped the sheet, and throw his own back. “ _Blaa el aeer*_!”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but licked the bottom to the tip and swallowed it whole before pulling it out to the tip and sucking, _hard_.

That when she felt something warm, gushing to the back of her throat, she pulled away fast, but the sprays caught her t-shirt and the lower half of her face – Logan almost laughed. It tasted, almost as good as she imagined.

Damian looked satisfied, like a fat cat that just drank two bowls of the thickest, creamiest milk. He looked at her, raising two fingers that glistened with her love – and sucked it dry.

 _Damn_ , she thought, _this boy is a straight freak_.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight?” mocked Tim from the window sill, his own cock outside his jeans – looking spent. Logan blushed. How long had he been there?

“About the time Damian pushed you flat on your back,” he quipped.

Logan wiped her mouth and whipped off her top, using it to wipe her face. She would need to shower. Luckily, and miraculously, her curlers had remained set and perfectly neat. _Thank god for small mercies_ , she thought. It wasn’t until they were in the bathtub, her legs pulled up to her chest and she sat between Damian’s long outstretched legs, that she remembered what started the whole thing. Tim sat on the toilet, reading a magazine. It was horribly domestic and she loved it. But, she still needed to talk to Damian.

“Still not going to tell me where you were?”

Out of the corner of her eye – she saw Tim stick, like a video on pause, fingers mid-turn of a magazine. Damian pulled her towards him, the tips of her toes brushed against his flaccid penis. “I certainly wasn’t where you thought I was,” he said with exceptional venom. Tim looked on, his expression curious. “I was with Tim,”

She sighed in relief. “Why didn’t you two tell me you need time alone? I would have slept on the co-”

“Not like that,” Damian said. He cleared his throat, resting her large hands on her folded arms. “Gotham has a hoard of vigilantes, I’m sure you know our beloved is one of them.” He caressed her wet skin. “And as it would happen, so am I.”

She yanked her hand back so violently it splashed into the water – wetting Tim and his magazine. “Sorry,” she muttered meekly.

“I’m Robin.”

“There’s like fifty though,”

Tim snorted.

Damian rolled his eyes. “The youngest one with best ass,”

“I don’t know about the ass part. I’ve seen pictures of the second Robin…”

That made Tim full out cackle.

Damian growled. “Glad to see your taking it so well,”

“At least I know you’re not cheating on me,” she shrugged.

“What?” Tim sputtered.

“Ridiculous isn’t she? _Sugarlips_ thought I’d cheat on her.” He captured her lips for a quick, heated kiss. “Absolutely ridiculous,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS!  
> *suck my cock – disclaimer, google translater did it soooo.  
> I’m so s o r r y about the delayed update, I recently moved and broke up with my partner so, yeah. ANYWAY, anyone read celebrity fanfiction? If so, who/what kind? I wanna do some interracial ones and idk. Yo girl thinking, like Tom Hiddleston, James Mcavoy and just about any other one we don’t really see much OFC of color with.


	16. Requirements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is possibly the shortest chapter I’ve ever written in the past for years of writing multi-chapter fan fiction but I’ve honestly been trying to focus on completing my own original work. I’ve realized I’ve gone further in my fan fictions than revising my own drafts which is a no-no. I will try to update soon, but linguistics is kicking my butt and I need a great GPA to be able to get my MFA. I just want to say my humblest thanks and apologies for the wait, but thanks for the comments. They’ve helped me write, fan fiction writers don’t get paid so comments are all we have, please remember that.

Logan Williams was not a fan of vegetables, unless they were batter fried, sautéed or cooked with lots of tasty meat.

But, Logan also was too lazy to go grocery shopping and cook her own damn food – which was why she was sitting at the dinner table scowling down at the rabbit food Carol had made. Her eyes glanced over the selection – there was no meat, nothing good in sight. Beside her, she saw her little brother devour his food like it was from the gods. She raised an eyebrow. “What a little weirdo,” she muttered, forking some of the broccoli into her mouth.

Grimacing, she chewed and eyed her father, whose massive figure was hunched over his warm food – looking just as happy as she was over the plate of vegan hell.  She understood why her step-mother was doing this of course, they (her father and her mostly) ate unholy quantities of meat. Just because she understood, doesn’t mean she agreed. Begrudgingly, she accepted it, swallowing the chewed broccoli as she eyed Carol’s happy expression joyously.

Logan had eaten half of her plate, which was a miracle seeing as there wasn’t anything she considered _worth_ eating on it. She was quite sure the woman hadn’t even used heat on the greens for too long! It was deplorable. Sure, she loved and made a salad every once and a while but an entire week of vegetable would be the death of her!

Rolling her shoulders, she took a long swing of the lemon water Carol made them all – except Micah, drink. Dragging out her chair, she held her plate and smiled charmingly at the rest of her family. “Dinner was great,” her father rolled his eyes and grumbled. “…I’m gonna go wash up and head out to Aunt June’s,”

Her father cleared his throat, seeing an escape. “I’m just about finished, I’ll give you a ride. It’s too late out for you to take a cab or a bus there,”

Logan narrowed her eyes. “But, Dad,” she said sweetly. “You haven’t even finished your bean patty,”

Carol perked up and looked at his plate. “Malcolm,” the slender blonde growled.

The large man looked at her with a helpless expression.

Logan grinned.

Micah giggled.

Carol shook her head.

“I’ll take Logan to her Aunt’s apartment complex, you can do the dishes and eat your dam–eat, your food.” She quickly corrected, getting up from her seat.

Logan waited in her car for her, texting Tim and Damian, mostly Tim, to get her something that’ll go straight to her hips. Damian seemed to applaud Carol’s effort in poisoning them whereas Tim was at least, vaguely sympathetic. Neither was helpful, however, none volunteering to buy her a burger. Nibbling her lip, she decided she’d have to order something when she went to the apartment complex. In her mind, she calculated the total cost and if she had that amount in her wallet.

Carol entered the car soundlessly, peering into her phone with a soft smile. “Texting your boyfriend?” the older female teased.

This caused Logan to chortle and flop in the seat, her phone doing a flip into her chest before she coughed and regained composure, all while Carol watched her with more than mild amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Logan said cuttingly, quickly – too precise.

Carol nodded, starting the car. “Right,”

“I don’t,” which wasn’t technically a lie, she had _two_ boyfriends.

“Okay,” her step-mother said, as she turned onto Baker Street, zooming past the silent posh apartment complexes. “When is your Aunt returning?” the older woman asked, changing the topic with a slight smile. Logan narrowed her eyes, she knew what she was doing, Carol was baiting her.

Logan bit the inside of her cheek, she wasn’t about to be tempted and manipulated by a nosy heiress turned step-mother. “Three day time,” it had been almost a week since she had become the proxy manager of the building complex and she had been enjoying her reign as Queen. Propping her head up against the window of the passenger side car, she gazed out at the buildings and lights that become blurs. Her step-mother drove steady, leading the way through the maze of Gotham City with expertise. Before they knew it, they had arrived at the apartment building. Hurriedly, she said her good-byes and hugged Carol – which surprised to older woman, but pleasantly, and made her way to the forth level apartment. It was in the stairwell she collided into someone she hadn’t seen in weeks. Since almost the beginning of summer, when she returned a book, it was her mother.

Sonia Fox-Williams looked a damn mess.

Logan was aware of her mother’s lack of self-care; the woman ate and slept when her work allowed her, which was rarely. The tiny woman hadn’t even recognized her own daughter, mumbling to herself as she sped down the corridor, papers flying about as she ran. In wake of her mother, she saw a page on her toes. Picking it up, she assessed it. It was a sketch of sorts, obviously Asian – Japanese or Chinese, she couldn’t distinguish. Vaguely, she thought of maybe running after her mother and trying to inform the woman of her misplaced paper.

But something bitter and heartbroken inside her made her decide not to, so instead, she continued her way to her Aunt June’s apartment.

When she turned the hallway, she saw someone that sent a shock through her. Lee. Jamal’s lover from that faithful night when she first kissed Red. Logan walked carefully, her lip caught between her teeth in anxiety. “Hi there…can I help you?” she asked carefully, having reached the door, thumbing the key in her hoodie pocket.

Lee looked up at her quizzically, as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing here?’, at least he didn’t say it. “I’m looking for Jamal,”

That much she figured. “He’s out of the country,”

“Right,” he said, slowly, as if a light bulb of information he misplaced was finally back in sync. “Of course, the funeral…” he ran a hand over his attractive face. “Tell him,” Lee then paused for a moment, perhaps thinking of a mutually believable alias, one that his partner would pick up on right away. “…that the Dragon’s treasure glitters no more,”

Giving him a curious look, she nodded, not sure what to make of it. “Okay,”

He grabbed her arm, his long lashes batting unconsciously. “What did I say?”

She repeated without fail.

Lee nodded, taking a sigh of relief. “I’ll see him around,” then the handsome man left, disappearing down the stairs and out of her scope. Twisting her mouth the side, the strange words mulling over her mind as she entered the apartment and locked it up securely, as even if two Robins were visiting – who knows what rats could sneak in between. Slipping out of her slip shoes, she pushed them aside and stripped her hoodie off. She wasn’t sure what time the boys were patrolling tonight, or if they were going together but chances were that she might not be seeing them for a few hours. As she checked the apartment for any broken in window or missing item, she couldn’t help but mull over the riddle Jamal’s lover had left for him.

“I should write that down,” she muttered to herself, unlocking Jamal’s bedroom door. Rummaging through his desk drawers, she found a paper with a gold printed on dragon. It was a flyer of some sort, worn and old – perhaps taken residence in the back of his drawer for no less than a couple months. Dismissing and tossing it aside, she procured another paper and scribbled on the riddle with an available pencil. Pinning it to his wall with a sticky tape, she left the room and entered her assigned room. Flicking on her light, she screamed in shock at the sight that greeted her.

| **IIIIIIIIIIII** |

Sonia Fox-Williams was a pushy, bossy, proud and persistent woman.

She worked for everything she ever got in life, when her father wasn’t too fond of her heading to the anthropological/psychology route instead of the Fox industries, she didn’t fuss. No, she told him he could keep his money and worked her ass off to get scholarship after to scholarship and pay for her school. She pushed through her bachelor’s, masters and her doctorate. Even while she was pregnant with Logan, working in hot as fuck South America and being married to Malcolm Williams, the most stubborn bastard alive. The forty-six year old worked for everything she ever valued but seemed to lose it all in the mass of confusion. No matter what anyone said, to be a career woman and family woman simultaneously was incredibly difficult. It was like juggling two porcelain balls whilst skating on thin ice. Something was bound to fall through the cracks.

For her, it was her family first. After Malcolm got a job promotion and she got accepted to pursue her doctorate – they slowly started to drift. She stopped being the doting wife he preferred, the mother her daughter needed all for her hunger of academia. The divorce papers came in no time, and honestly she hadn’t even fought. Not even for custody, a young adolescent would have been inconvenient for her research anyway.

Secondly, it was her career, though this one came slower, later – she had been falsely accused of being a fraud after some evidence of hers had been stolen – but this she would never let happen, even if it met congregating with devils.

Finally, in this she firmly believed that it would finally be her own fall through the thin ice. At least that was the way she felt when she looked into the golden eyes of her business associate, grinning at her as they shook hands.

Gradually, she felt whatever was left of her soul ebb away into nothingness but at least would achieve what she was meant to and at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

| **IIIIIIIIIIII** |

Lee blew into his hands and shook his head; he shouldn’t have gone to Barnes Avenue. Visiting that apartment, even if Jamal wasn’t there was too much of a risk. As much as he loved him, Lee had loyalties to his family first and in his family, there was no backing out of responsibilities. That was something he’d learned the hard way. As he hurriedly walked down the pavements, he hadn’t heard to roar of a car beside him. Not until he heard the mocking croon of a familiar voice.

Gritting his teeth he looked to see the familiar grinning face of the leader of Golden Dragons, at least for the Gotham branch. Known simply to all, if not most, as Lynx (or Lynx II), if he were straight, he’d find her alluring but him being gay, coupled with her being a manipulative psycho – that kind of killed the allure of her ruby lips and sultry gaze.

Knowing better than to fuss, he took a seat inside the black town car, right beside her.

“You’ve been a bad little dragon, Lee,” taunted the woman.

“What do you want, Lynx?”

She laughed. “It’s not what I want; it’s what your father wants, what must be done.”

“I have been disowned because –”

She waved her hand. “Your father is an old bigot yes, yes,” Then an unsettling twinkle settled in her eyes. “But you are no longer disowned, you are _required_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have wattpad, you can head over there and check some of my work. @embracetheweird is my username there.


	17. Perhaps There’s Something There That Wasn’t There Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few chaps left  
> also There’s going to be some graphic smut and more made up mythology of the Golden Dragon gang x

Logan placed her hand on her heart and offered the grinning person a look of utter irritation. “You couldn’t text like a normal boyfriend?” she questioned drily.

This caused Tim to laugh and sit up from his lying down position. “My battery died,” he gestured to his phone charging on her desk. “Plus this is more entertaining,” he grinned at her, the gesture making him look young and boyish.

“For you,” she spat, wiggling out of her clothes and heading towards her closet to change into some comfortable house clothes. “I almost had a heart attack,” she whined, slipping out of her capris, swapping it for a cotton shorts.

Her boyfriend leaned back and chuckled, admiring the view of her shapely thighs and round bum. “If you had come in two minutes early, you’d have really been in for a treat,”

To which she replied by throwing her t-shirt at his face, quickly slipping on her navy tank top. “I mean, I know your body is…” she bit her lip, searching for a way to observe the obvious without complimenting him.

“…fit?” he teased.

“Fit,” she mimicked, attempting the deep timbre of his voice and rolling her eyes as she walked into her joined bathroom, washing her face, she moisturized and quickly wrapped her hair before wrapping it with a silk head tie and a cap. When she reentered the room, Tim was staring at her like she’d just put on some fancy lingerie, when she knew she looked frumpy at best.

Never one to know how to handle awkward situation, Logan shifted on her feet and made a pinched expression appear on her fresh face. “Stop being weird, Tim,” she told him, crawling beside him in the bed.

Tim turned to face her, his nose pressed to her own so they could stare into each other’s very different, very beautiful eyes. He ran the tip of his index finger down her temple and cheeks to the shape of her lips. On instinct, she parted them, allowing his finger to trace the pillowy softness of her lips as she breathed on his digit. Her gaze fell to his wonder finger, as it traced down the column of her throat, down to her collarbone. “You are exquisite.”

Logan laughed. “You are delusional,” she leaned forward and kissed him quickly, sweetly and grinned. “But you do make me feel good,” she muttered, feeling a realization come over her instantly.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he simply smirked. “I lo–”

“I’ve brought food!” announced a loud voice from the kitchen. Tim cursed and stood, running a hand over his dark hair and pulling a tank top over his torso before stomping out of the room. Logan wondered what he was going to say before they were interrupted, could it have been those faithful words she’d always longed to hear. Three little words, echoed from the lips of someone that did not feel it platonically. The seventeen year old shook her head, _no_ ; it was too early for that. Tim was not the type to say such things lightly, so it probably wasn’t that, yeah, she convinced herself. It wasn’t _that_.

When Logan arrived to the kitchen, Damian and Tim were silent, as if they were just having a conversation and stopped at her arrival. This suspicion made her raise her brow but she didn’t comment, the two boy started bickering over an extra bag of fries, all but ignoring her as she dug into the takeout. She watched as Damian rolled his eyes at Tim and made cutting remarks without any true malice behind, watching as he manipulated around the knives and cutting board, slicing and dicing the vegetable he’d brought with him with scary accuracy.

She couldn’t help but think back early on into their relationship, to an incident they’d experienced on a date. It had been like any other day for her, really;

/ _f l a s h b a c k /_

“That’ll be $40.89, ma’am,” Logan told a customer as she handed the bill to her.

The older woman raised her gray eyebrows at the cost. “For a couple pet goods, child?”

Logan blushed before leaning over. “Do you have a frequent customer’s account, ma’am?”

“Why yes I do,” the woman said brightly, tumbling her canary yellow bag before pulling out a sky blue plastic card. Logan typed her information in before printing a new bill and handing it to the woman.

“That’ll be $21, then ma’am,”

The woman clapped whilst she pocketed the card and took out a wallet that had seen better days. Retracting the adequate amount, she handed it to Logan shakily. “Thank you for shopping at Pet Paradise, do come again!” she chirped placing the money into the cashier box, the woman smiled, depositing a five dollar bill into the tip jar before wondering off into the night. She sighed happily, recognizing this was her last customer for the day.  Checking her watch, she realized it was closing time. It was Friday and Mr. Crane insisted that they keep it open longer than usual, well onto seven in the evening which was late as they usually shut at four. However, business had been picking up for them and she was happy for him, as he genuinely enjoyed helping people with their companions.

Humming to herself, she moved from behind the counter and flipped the open sign to _closed_. Josie had to stock the shelves while Jose took inventory. Heading to the employee changing room, she shedded her work clothes and showered quickly, putting on a billowy floral print dress with a pair of black flats. She was so glad that Josie had convinced Mr. Crane to install a shower in the changing room. Washing her face off, she wiped it with a paper towel and prepared for her walk home. Tossing the keys to Jose, she waved them good-bye and proceeded to leave through the back door. The good thing about summer is that even though it was late, it still wasn’t dark out.

She took a slow, breezy walk to the bus stop, taking a seat and crossing her legs as she plugged her ears and played her music. She hums to the blaring of reggae beats in her ear, strumming her fingers along her bronze thigh. The summer heat had left her with glowing skin and a radiant tan that made her look more alive than she did in the winter months. Hell, she even felt better. It felt more like a home she had no part of anymore. The bus had a solid twenty minutes before it arrived, so she pulled out a tattered copy of one of her favorite plays, _Othello_ , to read in the meanwhile.

So absorbed in the tale of the Moor, she hadn’t noticed the detailed sports car pull up until it roared loudly.

Squealing, she jumped and her book was sent flying into the air. She cursed when she recognized the car. The driver’s window rolled down and she was met with the cocky smirk of Damien Wayne. “Get in,”

“Asshole!” she snarled.

“C’mon,” he encouraged. “I want to take you somewhere,”

She gathered her book from off the floor and placed it into her bag, glaring at him. “You could have called me like a normal boyfriend,” she pointed out. “Where’s Tim?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say _Red_ had a tough night and has been _advised_ to get some _rest_.”

Immediately she understood, shaking her head as she got into the passenger side. The car smelt nice and the seats felt comfortable against her body. Damien had some foreign music playing, it sounded nice and soothing, the singer crooned wonderfully in a mellow tone. “Who is this?” she asked as he drove off.

“ _Natalia_ ,” he said. “She’s a singer my mother used to listen to,”

She blanched. He never spoke about his family much, she only knew snippets she’d read in magazines and what he told her about himself when the mood arose. Clearing her throat, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her hair was styled in a mass of frizzy curls, she regretted not pressing it out but the heat would have just undone it anyway. “She has a beautiful voice.”

He grunted a response but continued driving.

“Where are we going?” she asked in a small voice.

Damien looked at her briefly when he approached the stop light. She felt squeamish under his gaze. His eyes seemed to have the power of arranging her insides and picking it apart, digging through to find whatever his heart desired. He cupped her chin and pulled her face to his, kissing her slowly. Their lips pressed against each other, soft and melting into the other’s touch then his warm tongue darted across her lips, poking between them as he tasted her. He sucked on her tongue for a moment, then her lower lip – his front teeth tugging at it before pressing his tongue on top of her own. Tongues moved together, tasting each other, relishing in the contact as their lips meshed.

He withdrew, seconds before the light turned green, smiling at her before driving off. “You really do have _sugarlips_ ,” he conceded.

Logan blushed brightly, rubbing her warm cheeks. “Wow,”

 

They pulled up in front of a cafe named, _Crimson Blues_ , it was small but the building was unique in its cozy charm. She glanced at Damien, whose expression told her nothing. Narrowing her eyes, she opened her door the same time as he did and exited. “You always seem to be taking me new places, Damien.”

“Of course I do,” he said arrogantly, taking her hand into his.

Logan rolled her eyes but chose not to comment further, letting him lead her into the building. He seemed to be familiar with the staff, one of whom greeted him a flutter of her extravagant falsies. “The band was just about to go on,” she cajoled. “The usual seat?”

“Yes, thank you, Gloria,” he announced. “My _girlfriend_ and I would like that.”

Gloria balked her green eyes large. “Sure, man – yeah, right this way.”

Logan beamed, kissing his neck softly. “Good boy,”

“You forget, I am a genius,” They were soon seated, in the middle of the spot. The view of the spotlight lit stage. A lanky man with long blonde hair was crooning on and on, metaphors about heroine and sex. Logan almost rolled her eyes. A waiter came by, an effeminate looking gentleman rocking a killer face of make-up.

“I’ll have a seaweed tofu wrap and a cheesy pasta plate.” He ordered, stonily as the waiter set down their glasses of water.

Logan sipped her water as her eyes scanned the menu at the table. “I’ll have the meat lover’s pocket sandwich with the seasoned potato wedges and a glass of lemonade, please,”

“Coming right up,” he said, walking off.

Logan bit her lip and folded her legs. Damien’s jean clad ones rubbed against her bare skin like a jolt of electricity, she almost pulled away but he placed his hand on her knee and kept her in place. “You are going to like this, Logan.” He stated, using his chin to gesture towards the stage as a new musician came on. This one was a plumb Hispanic woman with lilac colored curls. She belted out a melody and Logan couldn’t help but gasp.

“I know,” he said smugly, his hand going higher. Her hand stopped his, pulling his down but he only stubbornly placed it where it was. She shifted, uncomfortable with his hand there while they were in public when she heard the loud ruckus in the back and gunshots, she jumped. Barreling out of the kitchen door was the bleeding body of their waiter. She screamed, as did many other persons who were there – Damien stayed cool, however, even as a trio of men came after, guns blazing. “Stay calm,” He whispered.

She didn’t know how to especially when one of the men shoot the lights out and she no longer felt his touch on her skin. Maddeningly, she reached out for him. “Damian,” she whispered, screeching as she heard the horrific sounds of bones cracking. “Damian!” she shouted frantically, jumping out of her chair. Clumsily she moved, but the crowd was against her – everyone was moving in frenzy. The limbs barricaded her, pushing her back as she pushed forward. All she wanted was to find Damian. Her throat burned as she hollered, she hissed when her ankle jammed something, it ached when she moved. Eventually, she could not fight the stampede and followed outside. She sat on the hood of his car, burying her face in her hands and hoped he was alright.

“Why are you crying Logan?”

In surprise, she yelled out, slapping him on his firm, hard chest. “Where the hell were you?”

He waved his hand. “We got separated in the confusion. I am perfectly fine. There is no need for your hysterics.”

She rolled her eyes. “What hysterics? I was worried about you, _asshole_!”

“Is that your pet name for me?” he questioned with a perfect brow arched. “ _Asshole_?”

“Where were you?” she persisted. “One minute you were there but as soon as the lights came off you abandoned me! What kind of boyfriend –”

“It was the confusion, Logan,” he said. “I lost you in the confusion, that crowd was _insane_.”

Licking her lips, she nodded, that made sense, she’d witnessed it herself. “Yeah…oh right, definitely,” she laughed. “I don’t know what I was thinking,”

“You obviously were not,” he teased, pressing his lips to hers for a brief kiss.

She nodded, feeling strange. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking at all,”

That happened weeks ago, just when she’d agreed to their relationship, before Carol and her father had to leave her alone. It should have been a clear indicator that maybe there was something off about Damian. Logan laughed to herself, digging into her fries as she watched her boys bicker. Then again, even if they were Red Robin and Robin respectively, they’d still be special – and she’d probably still very much love them.

 


	18. Mother Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a disparaging comment a few weeks ago accusing me of fetishism. I have read, reread and edited my story but I haven't found this. To those who are still reading, thank you.

_Minor time skip – August - > October_

**8** **: 35 PM**

Blood filled her mouth as she fell to the floor, clutching her stomach. Her vision blurred and she could see her broken glasses at the corner of her eye – it was a blurry frame, but she was sure it was her own. Coughing, Logan couldn’t even bring herself to care about the blood that fell onto her white shirt. Every part of her body hurt, she was sure she had a broken rib and her left leg was definitely broken, having been snapped by the men that brought her here in the first place.

Now, where was  _here_? Logan was not sure, but she was sure that if she ever saw her mother again – she would kill her. 

“Oh,” a mocking voice sang in her ear. “We’re not done with you yet, princess!” punching her in already swollen right cheek.

That is, if she made it out alive.

**2: 00 PM**

Logan stuffed her books into her bag and hurriedly made her way out of chemistry, her cheeks burning with rage and heart sinking in fear. She got another C on the make-up quiz, and if she wanted to get into a good psychology program she needed her grades to be much higher. The paper seemed to burn the side of her messenger bag, and she tried to ignore the voice that whispered failure in her ear. God, she wanted to  _fucking_  scream. School was frustrating her to no end and she was sick and tired of chemistry being the only class she got below a B in. It was honestly utterly frustrating. 

Shouldering her lime green messenger bag, she made her way to the water fountain before heading to her last class of the day – Calculus. Turning on the water, she drank fast and ignored the familiar sound of the bell. Great, she got a C and now she was going to be late to her favorite class. Life was  _fantastic_. In no rush to get to her class, she lugged along, up the stairs until she met the familiar tawny door and saw the reflection of the smiling, six foot, teacher babbling away. Logan sighed and entered the class with an apologetic grimace.

“Good day Miss Williams! Thank you for finally honoring us with your presence, since your late I’m assuming you finished the homework and will be willing to do the first problem from the worksheet for us,” the scrawny man chirped, causing her to grimace and sigh.

She couldn’t even remember that they had homework! Kissing her teeth, she ignored the malicious gleam in the eye of the teacher and collected the marker from him. Biting her lower lip, she eyed the problem, and tried to recall how exactly she’d worked it out. Quickly, she scratched across the board and handed it back to the teacher.

“What do you think class?” he asked, forcing her to remain standing in front of her peers. 

He was meant with silence, except for the smacking of lips and a few coughs. Mr. Harris rolled his eyes and muttered under his breathe; “Promising young minds my ass,” before congratulating Logan on getting her problem right and warning her about coming to class late. Taking her usual seat beside Salina Hernandez, a willowy girl with a bright smile who was always a pleasant person to be around, she smiled. 

“Hey Logan,” Salina greeted to which Logan responded cordially. “Can I see your homework?”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. “If you let me see your chemistry notes,” the seventeen year old bartered.

Salina chuckled; Logan’s hopelessness with Chemistry was legendary. “No problem,” the two exchanged their notes and promised to return them before the week was out. It was Wednesday, so there was time before the next class for either on Monday. The class moved by fast and before she knew it, Logan was bursting through the school doors. A familiar car was parked outside, but it was an odd sight. That car hadn’t been parked outside her school since she was thirteen. Dark thoughts raced through her mind, she was instantly worried about her father, brother or Carol – had something happened to them? Oh, Aunty June and Jamal – had they met with an accident? She leaned through the driver’s window of the grey car with narrowed eyes and a worried expression before speaking. “What went wrong?”

The driver blanched a mild look of guilt on the older woman’s attractive face. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

The teenager licked her lips. “You don’t pick me up from school…haven’t in years, did something happen to Dad? Carol?” she gulped. “Micah?” 

The petite woman waved her hand. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just checking up on you…you know, I do love you,”

Logan scoffed, eyeing the vehicle. “I have a bus to catch so,”

“Hop in,” she goaded with an easy smile. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go,”

“I’ve got to meet a friend at the gym on 89th, by Fox Industries,” she stressed on the last word, delighting in the twitch in her mother’s eyebrow. 

“Sure,” her mother grinded out through her teeth. 

Grinning, Logan slid into the passenger sit and tossed her bag in the back before slamming the door shut. “Since when do you take time out of your work for me?” probed Logan.

Her mother furrowed her brows. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve picked you up,”

Logan didn’t reply, just rolled her eyes and buckled in. The car grew silent; her mother started the engine and peeled out of the school district.

“So,” drawled her mother.

“Don’t even try it,” she snapped at her mother.

“Excuse me?” the woman played dumb. “Try what?”

Logan rolled her eyes and took her phone from the pocket of her skirt. “Acting like you give a damn about someone other than yourself.”

“Young lady I scarified everything for you –” she started.

“ _Liar_!” shouted Logan, her eyes blazing with hatred as she stared at her mother. “You sacrificed nothing! I reached out to you, and every damn time I did you bit me in the arse! You are the world’s most selfish, self-serving bitch of a –” 

 _SMACK_!

Logan clutched her cheek and gazed angrily at her the woman who gave birth to her, but by no means her ‘ _mother’_. Had her mother done this to her months ago, or even offered to drive her anywhere, she would have been ecstatic and beaming. However, she grew up. 

“You speak to me with some respect girl.” Growled her mother, driving down an unfamiliar street, Logan rubbed her cheek and rolled her eyes.

“Stop the car.” The teenager requested through her teeth.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat Logan, we’re not that far from Fox –”

“Unless you’re going to hit me  _again_ ,” grunted Logan, as she checked her phone, a message from her best friend popped up on her screen. “Let me out of this car,  _lady_.”

**_Hey, I’m at the place with that special ‘_ ** **_gift’haha_ ** **_._ ** **_Waiting on you, sweetheart._ ** **_– Elyria._ **

“This isn’t the best area for you to leave just because you are choosing now to throw a tantrum, young lady.” Her mother tried to reason. 

Replying quickly to Elyria, giving her friend her current location, Logan stuffed her new phone inside her bag pack and opened the door. Thankfully, they were at a stop light. Sonia, her mother, was not lying when she said it wasn’t a nice area. As soon as she stepped out, she bumped into a grimy, smelly man who sneered at her with yellowed teeth, spitting just a few inches from her shoe before giving her a lecherous grin. “Nice stockings schoolgirl.”

Logan jerked back, zipping up her black pea coat and thundering ahead towards Fox Industries. Sticking her hands in her pockets, she was acutely aware of her mother’s calls and from the corner of her eye could see her mother trying to park her car. 

She was angry with herself for even glancing at her mother when she drove up. There was no logical reason for her mother visiting her. No unselfish reason. It was only, eventually, bite her in her ass. Determined to cut her off, she made a turn through a familiar alley that she was sure would lead her to  89th faster than walking the straight and narrow streets. Common sense and all the attempted self-defense crap her boyfriends, Tim and Damian, taught her told her not to walk down a gloomy alley in Golden Dragons territory. Yet, you’d be surprised at how easy it was for her to ignore logic and make a run from it down the alley which leads to a narrow street behind the large, Ferris Aircraft office. 

She jumped over a sleeping bum, when a hand, colder than her own trembling in the fall weather, gripped her wrist.

**9** **: 56 PM**

“Tell me,” the large man crooned. His angular face fixed in a seemingly permanent twist of a smirk. “What do you know of your mother’s research?” he asked for the thousandth time.

Logan swallowed some of her saliva and blood, grinning at him with crimson marred teeth. “Ask the b-bitch yourself.”

The man laughed, throwing her down on the concrete ground of the warehouse again. He seemed genuinely amused. “You’re funny, kid.” The man squatted; his massive thighs and muscular frame looked funny in such a small, agile position. “Jin!” he called, a tall, scrawny man came in. “Bring my phone.”

In record time, the man, ‘Jin’, brought his phone to him. The giant of man dialed a number, placing the phone on speaker. “Yes, Sir.” Her mother’s voice rang through the phone, Logan wiggled violently.

“You’re daughter tells me she is ignorant of your work, the work you have promised me, Sonia.” He started. “Is this true?”

“I will get you the research, Sir.” Her mother said, ignoring what he told her.

The made clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I grow tired of waiting, Sonia.” He grinned at Logan, his hand finding its way to her throat. “In the meanwhile I will  _amuse_  myself with your daughter.”

Her mother took a pause, before sighing. “As you wish,  _sir_.”

The man grinned at her, pressing his face against her neck and inhaling her scent. “Now, where were we?”

**3: 55 PM**

“Let go of me!” Logan hissed, snatching her hand away from her mother. Why wouldn’t she leave her alone? They had said all they needed to say, done all they needed to do. 

Her mother, ever persistent, yanked her arm. “Get your little behind back in that car! This area is dangerous.” She kept insisting this, her brown eyes wide and crazed. 

“Oh,” she rolled her eyes in dismissal. “ _Please_. I’ve taken this route a dozen of times –”

“That doesn’t make it any less dangerous, Logan.”

“ _Mother_ , I –”

“I’d listen to your mother, little girl.”

Her mother stiffened and shoved her behind her. “Edmund!”

A tall, blonde man grinned at them. He was massive, with a cruel face though handsome in a twisted sort of way. “It’s been a long time, Sonia dear; you’ve been a bad girl.”

**4: 3** **0 PM**

Elyria blew a lock of hair from her face, and tapped her sneaker clad foot on the ground. She had been waiting on her friend for the past half an hour and grew weary from the wait. It usually took her less than ten minutes to make it there. Using a black pony that was on her wrist she tied her long hair backwards, away from her sweat slicked face. She had just finished a workout session with her brother, Theo, who finally had some time off from work to relax with her. Logan had promised her to be here by 3:45, the absolute latest. Yet, here she was, a minute after four, waiting.

Dailing her best friend’s number, she heard it ring thrice, then cut off. Furrowing her brows, she dialed it again only for it to not go through at all. At this point, Elyria started to worry. Calling the only person she could think to call, she tried to keep panic out of her voice.

“Carol,” she started. “I think something’s happened to _Logan_.”


	19. Mother Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been a while. I’d be surprised if I still had any readers. Too much head hopping in the last update and this chapter, but I wanted you guys to see different perspectives. More Logan PoV after the next chapter.

[…………………]

Her room is dim and quiet as she packs and files her research onto her flash drive, a disc and the hard-copy into one of her briefcases. Backups are as necessary as keeping it away from Edmund, even if it meant her daughter. Sonia gripped her suitcase as she looked around her apartment. Pictures of Logan laid scattered, as well as other memorabilia from home. Academic awards sat on her shelf beside the baby picture of her only child. The child she was sacrificing for the sake of her research. The fact was bitter on her tongue and heavy on her heart – but Sonia could always have more children. Her research however, into the legend of the original leader of the Golden Dragon, the one to start the clan and where their so called ‘luck’ descends from, was not allowed to fall into the wrong hands. The edited version, safe for consumer use was yet drafted and if keeping the secrets of the clan safe from that psychopath Edmund meant the death of her daughter – then sacrifices would have to be made. 

(Deep down inside, Sonia knew Edmund didn’t have death on his mind for Logan; her child will wish for death in the upcoming days – or  _years_.)

After double-checking she had everything packed, Sonia wrenched the window by the fire escape open and tossed her cellphone inside the room. The guards outside her home, and her bathroom would find a surprise in the empty bathroom and opened window when they checked on her in another thirty minutes. 

“Did you think it would be so easy, Mrs. Williams?” an unfamiliar voice called from above – making a small screech echo from her lips. The masked woman – she guessed it was a woman, from the fitted outfit and long black hair blowing in the Gotham air. “Surely you did not think your research would go unnoticed by the Golden Dragons?”

Sonia’s eyes widened in panic – she recognized the woman as one of Edmund’s old associates, what the hell was she doing here? She could have sworn that Edmund’s croonies were all outside and about the building. “Oh no,” tsked the woman. “I am not a friend of Edmund’s. I am an ally,” she paused as her voice took a thoughtful tone. “…of sorts.”

[…………………]

Logan tried to move but her body protested.

It vibrated in an angry  _no_  to almost her very existence. Through her one good eye, which was not swollen shut and bleeding, she could see the blurred figure of her captor move about in a flurry of angry motion between his men. If it didn’t hurt to move her jaw, she might have made a low off color comment. That was her self-preservation skill. Honestly, she did even know she could take a beating like this and was kind of proud that she could but then she remembered that her ribs had been cracked and she felt more lightheaded by the second.

 _Oh my god_ , she thought,  _I’m going to die a virgin_. 

She tried to laugh at the thought but only served to bring more tears of pain to her eyes and a spot of blood onto her plumb, bleeding lips. She would die without apologizing to Carol for being a brat – they had come a long way in the past few months but she still hadn’t apologized to the woman who had become a surrogate mother to her. She would die without telling her father that she understood why he flew them so far away from everything they loved. She understood why he could let himself love again after her mother – a thing she had only just learned to do. She would die without teaching Micah to swim and telling him about their first home, the one of coconut trees and black rivers.

(She would also die without having said ‘I love you’ to either of the men she was utterly obsessed with. They would never know how much they meant to her, how she adored and appreciated them. No, because within hours, Logan would be dead and it would all be because her mother  _ran_.)

Worst of all, Logan would die knowing she was  _not_  a good daughter, step-child or sister to people who only tired their best for her.

So when Logan closed her eyes, because the pain was too much for her body to possibly bear – she murmured a silent apology for all her regrets as she slipped away into an eternal nothingness. 

(Which was probably why she hadn’t heard the cavalry arrive.)

Carol Williams (formerly, Carol Ferris) could feel her in the warehouse. The mature woman made a step forward to charge, but a large, gloved hand rested on her forearm to stop her. She glanced to her colleague with a look of irritation. Her  _chil_ _d_  – step-child was in there, and she was sure the sick bastard that was Edmund wasn’t giving her a five star treatment. When she had settle in Gotham all those years ago, retired from wielding the power of Star Sapphire and fighting crime (she had long since retired from being the cause of crime). The businesswoman moonlighted as a housewife and mother, a combination she never saw in her cards before falling in love with Malcolm. Carol squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before sighing as they opened, she loved that more than anything, and Logan was an extension of him. 

Her purple tinted eyes glanced at the Bat-boys – whom were exceptionally eager to be there, along with the head Bat that saw the whole thing as a personal affront. Batman faced her with his steely jaw and stern expression.

The Bat gave a nod.

With a fierce sneer, Carol flew up to the floor on which Logan was held. The sound of zip lines and armor whizzing through the night air, she used her body to break the window, barreling through goons in black get-ups. She parted the seeming sea of them easily with her power, lifting a few of them and slamming them into the wall. The collective groans made her feel powerful, it had been a while since she served a cause other than board meetings and making sure Micah’s Sippy-cup was full. 

“We’ll take care of them,” grunted the youngest Robin as he kicked a goon in the stomach before stabbing another in his thigh. “You get Logan.”

Carol gave a sound of affirmation then flew over them. By the door, she saw Edmund with an unconscious Logan over his shoulder and his faithful minion Jin following behind. Sneering, she pressed the comm in her ear. “I have my sights on them, going in.”

“Don’t kill him.” Was the gruff order of Batman.

Carol scoffed as she locked the door with a long cosmic string of the star sapphire power, landing a powered fist in the face of Jin as she landed on the ground. The minion almost collided in Edmund, who for a blind man was able to side-step and growl directly at her. 

“The girl doesn’t leave.” He spat, kicking Carol viciously in her mid-section. 

The hit was disorienting, so much that her grip on the door was lost. Edmund made a move to the handle, but Carol had recovered in time chop his hand out of the way and delivers a kick to his chest. The blond grabbed her ankle before she moved her foot and slammed her against the wall. 

Hissing in pain, Carol jackknifed up and used her intangible power to hold his neck. Edmund sputtered at her grip, his eyes narrowed in rage. His grip on Logan tightened. 

“Let her go!” Carol growled. 

Edmund laughed, easily dodging a series of kicks and punches from the lithe woman. “When I have Sonia’s work, the girl can go free!” He shouted, swiping at the woman like a fly. 

An almost electric shot of pain waved through her body like a tidal wave. Carol shot a blast of her power into his abdomen, sending him crashing through the door. His large body broke the door as if it were rice paper. 

Carol reached forward and grasped his massive wrist to keep him from tumbling over the bannister. Edmund gave her a twisted grin before breaking free and allowing himself to go down. A shrill cry erupted from her throat as she propelled herself after, as she fell after him, she saw the crimson red of one of the Robins swing by – tossing a throwing knife at Edmund’s neck and another on his hand. The move made him let go of Logan’s broken body, which she caught in a flash. 

Edmund’s body fell to the concrete with a wicked crack.

“I’ve got her,” Carol said into the comm, holding the bleeding, stiff body of Logan. The spunky teen was barely breathing and felt heavy in her hold. “I’ve got her right where she belongs.”

She was moving or  _being_  moved at least.

At least, her body was – Logan was in too much pain to query. Faintly, she felt warmth over her, her body was too broken to murmur. For a moment her eyes opened a fraction, just enough for glimpse before returning to the darkness that seemed to lull her back into a state of silent, thoughtless unconsciousness.

Logan remembered purple.  

[…………………]

Sonia held her briefcase to her chest as she was guided into the back of black town-car. The long, beautiful body of the masked woman greeted her as she took a seat. “Both my research and I will be safe from Edmund, right?” Sonia questioned again she took a seat.

Lynx title her head and hummed. “Of course it will be. I honor my responsibility Mrs. Williams.”

“It’s Miss Fox now actually. Divorced.”

Lynx made a noise of disinterest and waved her hand. “You have gathered all of your research, am I correct?”

Sonia nodded, and through the slits on the mask, she assumed the woman saw. After she (the woman) had gotten rid of the men Edmund had sent with her, Sonia had gathered all her data, travel documents and everything else she would need in case she had to leave the country.

“Of course, it’s all that matters to me.” Sonia rushed out, eyes darting about the car.

Lynx cocked her head to the side. Her black hair shimmered against the sides of her face as she spoke. “It is. Isn’t it?”

Sonia wondered how old was this dangerous woman? Was she Logan’s age? The woman thought of her daughter with a grimace. The masked female hadn’t said a word about Logan, just that Edmund would be taken cared of for the moment, long enough for her to escape. Nothing of her daughter, Sonia was too much of a coward to ask. Did she want to hear what happened to her daughter? Of course not. Sonia did not need an increase to her growing guilt. She didn’t want to think about it. All that needed to matter to her was that she was escaping with her research – even if it was into the hands of another.

What was that saying?

The enemy of my enemy is my...

[…………………]

Tim stood at the side while Carol laid Logan’s body on a gurney and the ER staff rushed off with her. Damian was there too, the two having changed into street clothes while Carol had powered down and once again looked like a soccer mom. They couldn’t very well go zooming about in their hero regale. Another doctor pulled Carol aside with a worried expression, asking her flurry of questions with regards to Logan’s state. Hospital protocol really, when a patient came in with that level of battering.

The twenty-something year old scrubbed his face.

 He couldn’t protect her, just like he couldn’t protect his parents who were ripped from him just as Logan was almost ripped from him. Could he survive losing someone else? Hadn’t he lost enough? Like flies they fell, when would he stop being life’s batting  _bitch_? Logan who was sweet, kind and so young could be caught in the cruel cross fire of life like the rest of them made him think twice about being with her. A selfish part of him wanted to say he could always be there in the click of a finger to stop the bad, but the reasonable part of him knew that she was human and lived in Gotham – danger came with the smog. 

A hand fell to Tim’s, softly dragging him from his musings. His blue eyes flickered to Damian’s frozen green. “Stop it.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I should have killed Edmund.”

“Yes.” Damian agreed. “ _We_  should have.”

“No.” he said lowly. “I should have killed him before, long before with…”

“Lynx.” Damian said, not asking. He knew of Tim’s affair with her, he had thought himself a great deal in love with the woman who got involved with Edmund to a disastrous end. 

“I thought he was dead.” He laughed humorously rubbing his face with an unoccupied hand. “ _She_  told me he was dead.”

“It is no use mumbling of what could have been and what was.” Damian dismissed sagely. “Logan is alive. And we must do all we can to protect her.”

Tim squeezed his hand. “ _Yeah_ ,”

“Did you know your boys were dating my girl?” Carol questioned Bruce Wayne as she leaned against the wall of the cafeteria holding a cup of black coffee in one hand and a cup of water in her other. She handed the coffee to the Dark Knight and sipped her water. They had all aged, but Bruce seemed to carry it the best next to the almost immortal Diane and Superman. His hair was jet black but held sprinkles of gray, subtle but there for a man glimpsing at forty. 

“It started with Tim.” He admitted with a small, miniscule smirk. Very much Bruce Wayne and not Batman, it made him look younger.

Carol hummed as they walked down the hallway to the elevator. “He really should avoid leaving traces of hair about. Never know when an overprotective step-mother might have them tested.”

“As long as I’m not a grandfather anytime soon, I don’t believe we have to worry.” Bruce said in a serious tone, but his blue eyes swam with mischief. 

Carol sputtered, water shooting through her nose. “Hilarious. You’re giving Hal a real run for his money, Wayne.”

To which, the patriarch of the Wayne family simply shrugged and drank his coffee. 

[…………………]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments?


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